


Wanderers

by Lokiitama



Series: One Shot Prompts [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Aliens, Angst, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Charmed - Freeform, Escape, Exhaustion, Fluff and Angst, For now a lot of hurt and not a lot of comfort, Gen, Gore, Humans Are Weird, Hung by the wrists, Hurt/Comfort, I promise, Loss of Control, Loss of Faith, Messy Cleanup, Muzzled, Needles, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Not Beta Read, OCs - Freeform, One-Shot Chapters, Other, Panic Attacks, Rescue, Rescue Missions, Science Fiction, Self-Harm, Selfish, Violence, Whump, but it'll come, collapse, dislocated shoulders, first encounter, prompt fills, prompts, space
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:21:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 48,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23107672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokiitama/pseuds/Lokiitama
Summary: Each chapter will tell different tales about Milo, Thaska and Zeph, a wandering trio of aliens, as they live through adventures that usually don't turn in their favour.
Series: One Shot Prompts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601422
Comments: 15
Kudos: 7
Collections: Prompt Challenge





	1. Muzzled

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr by clicking [here!](https://lokiitama.tumblr.com/)
> 
> This series is mostly part of the [ One Shot Prompts Challenge ](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/oneshot_prompts_challenge) (Ao3 collection you can see by clicking on this link!). It's a challenge created by [TNKT](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TNKT/pseuds/TNKT) and myself whose goal is to enjoy writing stories without having to overly think about multi-chaptered ones.
> 
> You can check out TNKT's own band of misfits (that inspired mine) by checking out [ The Disaster Five ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23377273/chapters/56014675#workskin)!
> 
> This event is open for anyone that would like to join, and can be used for fandom and personal stories!

He opened his mouth to screech another time, hoping to destabilize them enough so he could do an escape- no matter how much  _ slower _ he was by foot.

As he inhaled, something caught between his teeth and over the half of his face.

His head was pushed back by the force, and he quickly started to trash around, trying to slap whatever was on his face off, or better, get the bastard on his back away. He tried flapping his wings, hoping to slap him away, do any kind of damage.

It was no use however, he was shoved down on the ground, a knee between his shoulder blades, partially crushing a wing. The mask was tightened, forcing his mouth open. He tried to screech, but it came out muffled.

When the other alien came off his back.

His hands were still tied up. 

His wings had been clipped with the delicacy of a butcher and the feathers would take months to grow back to what they used to be.

And now? He couldn’t even screech, and make anything above sounds that would be absorbed by the muzzle. 

He wouldn’t do any good with his feet. He definitely didn’t use them enough, compared to his now-useless wings. And he definitely didn’t want to try his chances at outrunning a group of 5 other people that were definitely taller and meaner than he was.

One of the aliens caught his face and tilted it up so he would look at him. He tried tugging his head away, but the grip on his chin was strong.

Zeph’s crest feather flattened against his head, and he glared at the Aavat’s disgusting scaly face. He tucked back his wings close to his body, not even caring about the way one of the feathers on his right wing felt wrong.

They were going to  _ pay _ .

The Aavat probably caught on his defiance, because his flat nostrils flared up for a second, before he approached his face, and grinned. His clawed fingers passed in his hair, grooming the flattened crest feathers.

“Oh yes,” the alien said. “You’ll make a fine piece to our collection.”

Zeph tried to headbutt him.

It had been easily avoided, and he had received a slap on the part of the face that wasn’t trapped in the muzzle.

He snapped back his head to the one that had talked to him, apparently the leader of these bastards. If he could glare even more, he would have done it. 

The Avaat gave him a toothy grin. “You’re feisty. I like it.”

Zeph kicked him right in the middle of the knee.

* * *

In the end, his legs had been bound as well. 

He was thrown back in the tiny cage on the floating cart. 

He couldn’t believe he had been taken that easily. It was entirely and completely stupid. All because he just  _ had _ to prove he was a great hunter to his group of friends. 

He could lure his preys in just fine. In fact, he was the best at charming between all of them. 

Maybe trying to charm an entire group of aliens to prove a point wasn’t the same as charming tiny animals for food. 

He had seen his friends scrambling away the minute it went south. He could see their shadows in the trees escaping toward the village.

Zeph had felt betrayed. They could have at least tried to help.

Seeing how the five other aliens were armed, they probably would have been hurt, but if they had at least attacked or created a diversion or… or  _ something _ … maybe they could have all escaped together.

Instead, the bastards had bound his hands and clipped his flight feathers.

And now he couldn’t move at all, because he had tried to charm them into letting him leave but it hadn’t worked. Again. 

How was he supposed to know other races had developed a wobbly charming immunity over time? 

He glared at the Avaats whenever one looked at him.

The only thing he could feel at least a bit smug about was the way the leader of the group was limping ahead of him. 

He felt something poke his wing and he turned around, trying to screech at whoever that was. The sound was muffled. 

One of the aliens was holding a stick and had a smirk. “Aw, little birdie cannot scream?”

He poked him again. 

Zeph bristled his feathers before keeping them tight against himself. 

He didn’t know how to get out of this.

* * *

In the end, it’s when he stopped glaring, and stopped responding to threats that they ended up ignoring him.

He had propped himself up against the cage’s bars, enjoying the cool of them on the side of his head. He had tried humming something for himself, but it usually rewarded him a kick against the cage. 

His mouth, constantly forced open, was hurting, his legs were hurting, his arms were hurting, and his feathers had been disrupted in such a way it was  _ icky _ . He hated it.

* * *

His cage - and thus, himself, since he was still in it - were thrown in an empty room.

The metal hitting metal made an echo for a while, soon joined by the sound of the door sliding shut and clicking.

Zeph tried struggling a bit against the ropes that bound him, but couldn’t really move much. He probably looked like a worm about to be eaten. 

The bastards could have  _ at least _ freed his legs.

In the end, he remained lying on the side, cheek against the bottom of the cage. Or was it the up of the cage? He was pretty sure it did a flip when he was thrown here. 

He heard the engine start.

His cage slid down to a nearby wall as the spaceship took off from his homeplanet. Away from his village. Away from his friends and family.

He curled up on himself.

* * *

He didn’t know how long it had been since he had been dumped into the spaceship, but it had been long enough for his stomach to cramp up and be the loudest he had ever heard it. 

As far as spatial awareness went, he knew the ship had stopped a few times, and that they were currently landed  _ somewhere _ . He didn’t know since how long, he didn’t know what for. 

Frankly, he had given up the fifth time they had stopped and that his shoulders and wings were most likely bruised from his struggling to try to escape. The situation was hopeless at this point.

He didn’t know if he’d die.

If he did, it would be either from starvation or boredom. 

It was around his nth sigh since they landed that something different happened.

He could hear footsteps. That was a first. He sat back up with a bit of effort, and as he finally managed, the door opened.

Another cage was thrown in the ship. He couldn’t discern anything from it, but he could definitely hear some sort of muffled “oof” when the cage landed in the middle of the room. The Avaat closed the door with a taunt and went away, if the fading footsteps were anything to go by.

Zeph shimmied his face closer to the bars, trying to see who he was stuck with now.

He honestly couldn’t see much, aside from a hooded figure sitting up slowly, with a soft green glow coming from where the head was supposed to be.

If only he could get a closer look. He wanted to call out for the other alien, but his throat was all dried up from having to stay open for so long. His jaw was tense and honestly, with the times he had tried to make some noises, he knew it could get hard to breathe under the muzzle.

He stuck his face between the bars and squinted, trying to make out literally  _ anything _ else.

The engine under his butt started, and Zeph could feel the way his stomach cramped from the speed as he felt even his body being thrown back. 

When he caught some semblance of balance, he looked back up… to a cage that was sliding extremely fast towards his.

When they inevitably collided, Zeph gave a shriek of surprise and jerked away.

… and fell to the ground, wings uselessly flapping around to try to keep him upright.

He instantly regretted shrieking. It felt like ripping a bandaid from his throat, and his teeth were already starting to hurt around the gag. He pushed himself up using his face, feeling the muzzle dig in his cheeks even more, and looked back toward the other’s cage.

Green marks were glowing, facing him directly.

Zeph shrieked again, shoving himself against the furthest part of the cage, barely keeping balance this time. The hooded alien seemed to flinch away in retaliation, shoulders going high.

His throat burned again, and Zeph started having a coughing fit.

Everytime it felt like his throat was spasming and it only kept getting worse. He could feel the muzzle clinging to his face and soon enough, it was almost impossible to breathe. He could hear another voice trying to calm him down - the other alien he assumed, but it was impossible to breathe now.

His jaw was clenching on the gag, his dry tongue was rolling against it, trying to push it out, to be able to start being humid. He needed to drink something. He needed  _ something _ .

He kept coughing until finally, as much as it  _ hurt _ , he felt something liquid in his throat and mouth. It was a telltale metallic taste. He had started bleeding - from his throat if the pain was anything to go by, but he let the liquid roll on his tongue as he slowly stopped coughing.

The muzzle was suffocating, and it was only after a few minutes of concentrating on the way he breathed that he could finally give back his attention to his situation.

The hooded alien was leaning towards him, and although he couldn’t see his mouth move - Zeph couldn’t even see a whole face - he could hear him. “Are you okay? I’m sorry I scared you.”

Out of instinct, he tried to reply, but his tongue touched the disgusting gag, and his teeth clenched. The only sound that came out of the muzzle was a pitiful groan. He hated not being able to speak. He hated it. He hated not being able to spread his wings. He hated the fact his wings were clipped. He hated the fact he couldn’t move. He hated that he was away from home. He hated that he had been taken so easily like an idiot. He hated...

He hated… He hated...

Before he knew it, the air the muzzle provided felt too little again. The voice from the other alien definitely didn’t help.

* * *

His new cellmate didn’t speak much.

Thinking on it, Zeph probably had scared him away from it when he panicked and eventually passed out from the lack of proper aeration in the muzzle.

Now that they were literally next to each other - individual cages put aside - Zeph had had the time to observe the other alien. It honestly didn’t change much from what he would have seen from far away.

He had no specific traits that would allow him to be identified in any kind of race, it was infuriating. All he really could say was that he looked humanoid enough, and had white hair… or fur. Whatever his race was.

He also struggled a lot. Like he was doing now.

It was some kind of weird little dance Zeph couldn’t really explain. Both his arms were tied behind his back, and he was moving his shoulders a lot, often doing the same moves, and wiggling his upper body left and right, back and forth.

It often ended with a huff, and his head hitting the side of the cage, or a small whisper his mask caught before its meaning could reach Zeph’s ears. 

This time, the huff was a bit deeper, and he could make out an extremely soft “damnit” coming from the masked alien.

The mask turned towards him again, and they stared at each other in silence for a bit. Or well… At least Zeph thought so. He wasn’t very sure when all that was “staring” at him was one giant green dot with decorative marks around it. 

It was a little unsettling.

At least he wasn’t alone anymore.

Zeph stomach squeezed, and rumbled louder than it ever had. He curled up on himself, wings tight against his back and grimaced in pain.

The hunger was awful.

The masked alien tilted his head downwards slightly - as if he was looking through his stomach - and started struggling again. Except it looked different this time. And more ridiculous, too.

The other’s cage was slightly larger than his, but he definitely had less moving space than Zeph did. So when he saw the other lifting his butt and shimmying his shoulders even more, Zeph’s eyebrows shot up.

Why hadn’t he given up after the first few hours? It had been enough time  _ his _ stomach had started grumbling as well and he was still struggling. 

Zeph was… concerned. The other alien had clearly lost it, if the way he was bending was anything to go by. However, when Zeph was about to look back down and try to move his head to shake off the itch of the muzzle’s buckle, the masked alien’s hands were suddenly in front of him, instead of his back.

The alien passed one leg through his linked arms, then the other. 

He bent his hands up and down, as if he was testing something out.

The mask turned towards him again, for a brief second, before the alien completely turned around showing his back to Zeph.

Zeph blew air out of his nose, right about to be offended, but he heard a small click, and the bound hands put the mask on the side.

His cellmate hunched over, and even though he couldn’t what he was doing, Zeph could definitely tell the other was using his teeth. It only took a few more minutes for the ropes to free him. 

The alien was unmoving for a few seconds, curled up on himself, but then he picked the mask up, and turned around once it was placed back.

He was keeping his hands raised up to his sides, as if not to scare Zeph.

The scared phase was already long gone though, especially when Zeph had seen him struggle and look stupid for at least a few hours. The other pointed at his bound legs, and Zeph immediately understood, wiggling closer so he could put his legs near the bars of their cages.

The other’s hands were quick to work and soon, Zeph could finally feel blood passing correctly in his legs again. He moved his feet a bit, enjoying the small freedom it gave him. 

The other made a movement with his finger and wrist, indicating for Zeph to turn around. He did so without even stopping to think about it.

The hands worked on his, sometimes pushing away a wing that came in the way - or in his face, according to the small  _ bonk _ he had heard and felt. 

The way he pulled his arms forward at once gave off a lancinating pain. They had been forced in the same position for too long, and just putting his arms in front of him was already enough to bring some tears to his eyes. 

He didn’t care for that, however. He pulled his hands to the muzzle, trying to tear it off. It wouldn’t budge. His breath was getting faster again.

Why wasn’t it coming off?! He tried working on the buckle but it didn’t get off. He was almost free. The muzzle was the worst. He needed it off. He needed it  _ off _ .

“I’ll do it.” The voice from the other spoke up. He felt the hands on his, making him realize he was going into hyperventilation again. Zeph brought his hands back down, in a way his shoulders wouldn’t hurt as much. 

The hands tugged a bit at the buckle, making Zeph grimace slightly.

“Do not close your mouth right away. Or it’ll hurt.” The voice was reassuring somehow, even if it came out pretty neutral.

It was probably the fact he was being spoken to for the first time in what felt like forever. When the muzzle loosened, Zeph all but grabbed it to throw it away. The furthest away possible from him.

He gulped down the air through his open mouth a few times. Taking deep breaths felt amazing.

The other’s hands touched his cheeks, and if Zeph’s crest and wings had slightly relaxed, they were once again against his body as he flung himself at the other side of the cage. He threw a distrustful glance at the other alien, whose hands were once again on the side, in a sign of peace.

“Sorry.”

Zeph closed his mouth, and his jaw cracked slightly as he did. His hands shot up to his jaw, and a groan escaped his throat.

“What the hell, dude.” He cried out. His voice was unusually raspy, and ended up in a small coughing fit.

The other seemed to attempt at making himself smaller, as he repeated. “Sorry.”

They kept staring at each other for a long awkward silence, where Zeph was rubbing his jaw to ease out the pain, and making a lot of wet noises with his mouth as he finally started to have saliva in it again.

The masked alien shoved his hand toward Zeph. “I’m Milo.”

He took the hand, taking note of the way it trembled slightly under his fingers. “Zeph. Nice to meet you. Do you have any idea how to get out of here?”

And Milo nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I would love to hear what you thought about Zeph and Milo's first meeting!
> 
> This prompt was "Muzzled", and was given out by [TNKT](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TNKT/) for our usual one-shot prompts challenge, that we do every week or so! You can check out their version of the prompt with [The Disaster Five](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23377273/chapters/56014675)! 
> 
> I had never worked or thought about muzzled as a whump prompt before, and it took me a bit to understand how to make it work. In the end, I'm still pretty happy with how it turned out!
> 
> I had to go in a comfort zone with a gag-muzzle however but hey, I think it ended up nicely.


	2. Selfish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill : Selfish
> 
> Warning : Very light dehumanization, human/alien trafficking mention.

As it turned out, his cellmate’s plan of action to get out of this mess included waiting even more. It felt like hours had passed by. He had expected the other to start explaining how they would escape, but instead he silently rubbed his wrists in a repetitive pattern that Zeph found himself imitating subconsciously.

Mostly on his feet and legs. The bastards really had it bad when they tied them.

He should have kicked them harder.

He had attempted some bouts of conversation with his cellmate, but the other really wasn’t talkative… Who the hell answered “around” when asked where he came from? 

So even if the man didn’t seem to mind Zeph lowly humming to himself to try to pass the time, the avian, now free, remained on edge.

How would they escape? Would it even be a _they_? The other could use him to get out and just leave him back for all he knew. That’s what the poachers did, after all.

Foreigners couldn’t be trusted.

He knew it, and he still hadn’t listened. He thought he’d be better than those old rules, but he wouldn’t have been in this situation if he had followed them. He wouldn’t have been stuck with a silent alien as his only chance to escape.

If it was a chance at all. The other had given him good reasons to somewhat trust him when he untied him and helped him with the muzzle, but he remained a foreigner. Zeph would go along with the plan the other had, but if things started to turn sour for him, he’d bolt out of there.

No way he would be tied up and muzzled again.

The rumble of the ship got louder, and he felt his stomach squeeze and lurch. From the two or three times where that had happened before, they were probably entering a planet’s atmosphere. And it’s only now that his cellmate - Milo - decided to move as well, by sticking his hand inside his pants.

Zeph was about to comment something about it being gross when Milo brought his hand away after rummaging for a bit, holding a palm-sized round device. What the hell was that?

“You keep a lot of stuff up your pants like that?” He ended up saying, still in disbelief at the display he had seen. The other barely gave him a glance - reading from the head tilt - before he stuck the thing on the top of his cage, near the digital lock.

“What’s that?” Zeph asked against his better judgement; the other still wouldn’t answer. Instead a few seconds after his question, the ship started shaking for a few seconds before a huge tremor made the avian hit his head against the bars of his cage, and the humanoid bump his hand near the device.

Milo clicked his tongue as Zeph groaned, covering the hurt part of his face with his hands.

Guess they had landed.

The foreigner resumed his work, and typed on a few buttons from his thing before scrambling himself at the bottom of the cage, somewhat shielding his face. The tiny device started beeping, and a shrill sound rose from his cage, before the lock exploded with electricity.

The device fell back down onto Milo, and the humanoid rolled out, kicking his cage open.

He stretched for a second, and the fact he took so much time made Zeph incredibly wary. Would he just leave him in the cage? They had never really agreed about escaping together, so it was entirely possible that he would be left alone, actually.

And foreigners were always selfish things, right?

“Protect your face and stay far from the lock.” The other finally -thankfully- said, as he approached and stuck his device onto Zeph’s cage. The avian did as requested and quickly heard high-pitched noise.

He felt the small deflagration on his arms, and when he lowered them, the cage was open.

Zeph scrambled outside, not wasting a second before stretching as well, enjoying the way his cramped limbs could now entirely spread. He kept his eyes on Milo, making sure the other wouldn’t do any sudden gestures, but he only went near the door, putting the side of his head against it.

It gave him the occasion to observe the strange alien.

He noticed he barely reached his chest. Were all foreigners this tall? The poachers had been towering over him too, back on his planet. While Milo was in a slightly bigger cage, he hadn’t expected him to be that tall. He was standing at least two heads over him.

Despite that, Zeph supposed that if he turned against him, he would still be able to fight against him. He may have been taller, but he also looked thin. Thin enough for Zeph to knock him off if needed be.

Milo stopped listening at the door and made swift work to open it.

* * *

Even though he had been given three words of reassurance and a half about it, Zeph was pretty sure Milo had no idea where he was going.

The alien was just carefully sneaking in the corridors, Zeph trying his best to do the same even though he knew it would be pretty useless seeing his wings were bright red, and then opening random doors after listening to them.

Everytime they entered one of these rooms, it had been entirely useless. Milo searched around the room, then went back into the corridor. It had been lasting for what felt like far too long, and the avian wariness was only increasing by the minute.

If Milo kept wasting time like that, the ship would take off once again. But he had assured him twice that he knew where the exit was. Yet he had been leading them in rounds until now.

It was fishy, and Zeph tried his best to remember the corridors they took as he decided Milo had no idea where he was going. Foreigners couldn’t be trusted, nor be counted on it seemed.

So he knew what he had to do.

When Milo entered the next room, Zeph stood “guard” as he had done for the past six rooms they had been in. He surveilled the corridor, before glancing inside the room when he heard the other make a small noise.

Milo was holding an old, weathered satchel close to himself before opening it and rummaging through it.

It was the perfect time. Zeph quietly walked away, slowly starting to go into a jog once he had passed the first turn at the corridor. The jog quickly broke into a sprint as he retraced their steps, sure that he was far enough away from Milo.

He wouldn’t let the alien make him lose any more time. He needed to get away. He needed to escape and go back to his family. He kept running almost blindly in the corridors, panting hard from the exertion he put on his legs.

He never had had to use them that much before. Between two gasps for air, he promised himself he’d challenge his brother to a running race from the base of their nest to the cliffside. He would never underestimate the importance of legs.

Not when he couldn’t fly.

But he’d get out. He would use his legs a lot more after that. He would find the exit by himself, since the foreigner-slash-ex-cellmate decided to waste time

He came to a screeching halt when one room’s door opened suddenly in front of him where he was running. One alien peered through it, and surprise read on his face as his eyes landed on Zeph.

It only lasted a few seconds before he called whoever else was in the room, and stepped out of the corridor.

“I knew I heard some footsteps when there shouldn’t have been any.” The alien said, huffing. “Shouldn’t you be locked up in your cage, little birdie?”

Zeph was unable to move, almost unable to breathe as he was still trying to catch his breath from running. Everything was burning, yet his entire body felt ice cold. He almost hadn’t noticed the vicious grip of fear in his stomach, until the alien stepped forward.

Then everything screamed at him to _run, run,_ **_run. Now!_ **

The avian spun on his heels and ran the other direction as fast as he could.

He heard some exclamations behind him, from different voices, and heard them start to give him chase. He took a sharp turn, using his arms and wings to propel himself away into a part of the ship he’d never seen before.

How big was the place supposed to be?

Where could he run away?

The two other aliens were getting much closer. They had much longer legs, and seemed to know how to use them better than he did. Zeph held back a choke as he tried forcing himself to go faster, knowing too well he had reached his limit both in speed and endurance.

All too soon, pairs of hands had caught him and shoved him into the ground, effectively knocking the air he didn’t know he still had out of his lungs. He could feel the brute’s clawed hands digging into his arms, forcing them in an uncomfortable position where one of his wings was being crushed while the other one was pinned to the ground thanks to a huge boot.

He cried out in pain as the heel dug deeper in his feathers, trying to struggle away. His whimpers seemed to amuse the alien on top of him, as he heard a chuckle before the grip on his arms tightened.

“Hey.” The one that wasn’t stomping on him said. “Don’t damage the goods. It’s gonna be harder to sell otherwise.”

The heel and grip slightly lessened, but it still wasn’t enough for him to break free.

He felt tears prickle at his eyes, right as his inhales started becoming shaky and choked. He hadn’t heard it before. He didn’t really want to think about it.

He didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want to be sold. He wanted to be with his family. He wanted to be back on his planet.

With his kind. Away from the way too tall foreigners.

“Aw look you made it cry.” The one on his back said, nudging the avian a bit forward. Zeph tried curling in on himself but the position made it impossible.

“Whatever.” The other replied, standing up. “Let’s bring it back to the cell. ”

Zeph kept struggling as he could, but the two brutes didn’t seem to even pay attention to that, chatting about their salary, and how much they would get for their two catches. Maybe three, if they managed to find a nice specimen on this planet.

They looked completely unaffected by his attempts at biting and kicking. 

They barely started walking back toward the cells, not even letting him walk there as they were holding him up, when a crashing sound was heard incredibly close. The grips on his arms tightened and he winced as he felt the claws reach nearly into his flesh again, but didn’t get the time to focus on it as a green smoke filled the entirety of the corridor he was in.

The one that had enjoyed bruising him barely had the time to say “what the-” that a sizzling sound was heard, and his colleague cried out on the other side of Zeph, a dull thud resonating shortly after. He could barely see anything in the smoke, but the sizzling started again and it was the other brute’s time to groan in pain.

The arms on him tightened even more, before suddenly slackening, and he could see the silhouette of the alien fall down to the ground. Zeph dropped to his knees, barely catching himself on his palms.

He didn’t get the chance to try to understand what had happened that another hand - different, still rough but with a much weaker grip - laced around his upper arm, dragging him backward. Some kind of smelly rag was slapped across his mouth and his nostrils and kept in place. 

Still somewhat dizzy, Zeph got pulled away from the smoke, and into an empty room.

He looked up to the person that had pulled him away, and found himself face to face with a mask he swore was somehow frustrated.

The other foreigner. Milo.

The humanoid put back his dirty rag in the satchel he had picked up from that room, along with a taser.

“You left.” He simply said.

“You weren’t going for the exit.” Zeph replied with a short breath, trying to recover from the whole situation.

“Had to get my things.” The humanoid raised the satchel slightly, before letting it drop back down and making sure it was properly closed.

Milo went back near the door, trying to listen around it, and Zeph approached him cautiously. His muscles were still trembling, but he was feeling more like himself. “You saved me.”

He didn’t get much of an answer, barely a glance actually. The avian was glad for that, as the statement was more out of surprise than appreciation. Why would a foreigner help him out so much? It would have been much easier for him to reach the exit without him, if he was “distracting” some of them.

Milo opened the door and gestured to him to follow, and they went back in the corridors.

Zeph followed, but didn’t know what to think.

* * *

Milo’s prudent steps still felt too slow for Zeph’s liking. He wanted to be out _now_. He wanted to already be back on his planet. But he wouldn’t complain. Couldn’t complain. He knew it had been his loud steps that had alerted the two brutes.

So slowly but surely, they reached a wider room with two doors at the end of it. The airlock.

They could see the outside through the windows to the side. There were a lot of mountains and rocks, and Zeph could feel the thrum for freedom rushing through his veins as they stepped in.

Milo went near the door and pressed a few buttons. Zeph was slightly flapping his wings, both to try to get the feeling of the heel away, and in excitement. He’d be out. He’d feel the wind on his wings again. 

But when the door opened, the avian found himself face to face with the poachers.

A short second passed before one of them lunged at him, and Zeph jumped back towards Milo to avoid him. The humanoid’s hand was already in his satchel, and Zeph could see the butt of the taser get out when suddenly, Milo was knocked over and put on the ground.

Zeph only took a few step backs, unsure where he was supposed to look at, as everything unfolded quickly. The poacher on top of the foreigner got quickly tased but another one kicked the weapon away, straddling the humanoid so he’d stay on the ground, while the first one was convulsing on the ground.

Looking back up, one was directly staring at Zeph and the avian panicked. He managed to avoid a few attempts to tackle him, until he lost balance and fell on his back. Right next to Milo’s weapon. He lit it right as the bastard tried to grab him again. The massive discharge he received was enough to make him pass out.

Zeph shakily stood back up; two were trying and mostly managing to keep Milo on the ground, while the last one was at the control panel, typing away.

The engine rumbled under their feet. The avian took a sharp inhale. They were going to leave the planet. He had to get out. 

He was so close to freedom.

He jumped over the unconscious body at his feet, and past the foreigner that was still struggling and keeping up a fight against the poachers. He went directly to the door, and quickly typed away to reopen the door.

He was about to press the button to open the second one when he heard a gasp behind him. He risked a glance and saw one of the poachers putting his whole weight on Milo’s body. The humanoid looked incredibly frail under the other aliens, that were massive and looked dangerously full of scales.

Zeph’s guts twisted when he saw the scene.

Should he… should he try saving him? That’s what the other had done, after all, hadn’t he? But foreigners were supposed to be selfish. Only this one had helped him. And he was practically in the same situation as Zeph had been…

The engine rumbled louder, and Zeph felt the ship start slowly ascending.

He frowned and turned back to the console, right as the alien near the control panel screeched something in a language he didn’t know.

The moment he pressed on the button and heard the second door open, a bang resonated in the room before something that felt _flaming hot_ embedded itself in his waist. Zeph screamed in pain, knees buckling, as he tried covering the place with his hand.

He could feel something liquid run between his fingers and the hurt only kept increasing.

He weakly turned around, and saw one of the poachers that were on top of Milo now pointing a gun in his direction. He couldn’t make out much more as the pain quickly numbed all of his other senses. He heard some commotion, and the sound of the taser going again. Another gunshot.

But he was just focused on the pain. On his blood flowing out.

He was going to die.

He was so close to freedom and he was going to die.

It still burnt.

But he didn’t die.

Instead, he felt a pair of arms lift him around the neck, and that somewhat snapped him back to reality. As much as he could, through the pain. One of the poachers was still jerking on the ground while the two others were slowly approaching him.

Milo had picked him up.

Then Zeph felt something still warm press against his temple and when he dazedly looked towards it, he saw the nuzzle of a gun glinting in the corner of his eyes.

A bitter feeling passed through the numbness. Foreigners really were just selfish things. He knew he shouldn’t have trusted Milo. Not even to hesitate about it. If he had just followed the principles, he would have been out and safe already.

The gun cocked against his head and Zeph felt the adrenaline rush back, making him slightly more aware of the situation. He was petrified.

“What are you doing, boy. Let the feisty little bird go.” One of the bastards said. Zeph recognized him. It was the one he had kicked in the knee. He wasn’t limping anymore. “We need it alive for the transaction.”

Milo’s grip tightened on his neck, and Zeph could feel the foreigner’s heart hammering away in his rib cage as his head was shoved closer to his chest.

“Would be a shame to lose that much money then, wouldn’t it?” Milo said, with his distorted voice, sounding way too calm for the rate at which his heartbeat was going. The humanoid took a step back, and Zeph followed, too scared of getting shot.

Would he be shot dead just for an escape?

The poachers took a few steps forward, right as Milo took bigger steps back. Zeph felt the cold air on his clipped wings. They must have been much higher.

“It’s clipped. You wouldn’t survive if you did this.” Another step back. Zeph tried putting his feet wider, as he lost balance slightly, waist still bleeding and burning.

“I really hope you can at least glide.” The foreigner said in a lower voice directed at the avian. And Milo aimed the gun away, shooting at the other’s feet, making them jump back as he threw both Zeph and himself outside.

Out of instinct during their freefall, Zeph’s wings snapped open, and he whimpered as it barely stabilized him in the sky. The foreigner clung to him tightly, and it made the wound even worse. One of his wings had been badly clipped, and while he could somewhat glide the extra weight was worsening his already poor attempt.

“Let go of me!” He exclaimed, trying to struggle free, but the movement only made Milo drop the gun so he could hold him with both hands. They kept gliding in a shaky direction, at a speed that would end up with a painful landing. 

The spaceship was still going upward, and Zeph really hoped it would stay that way. It meant he only had one foreigner to deal with anymore. He tried pushing Milo away. For such a thin alien, the humanoid really wasn’t letting go, and instead only kept grabbing at him, sliding lower and lower when he was being pushed.

Zeph even tried kicking at some point, uselessly flapping his wings to attempt at slowing down his fall-slash-glide.

Only when the ground approached dangerously fast- faster than it should have been Zeph gave up, putting his wings as wide as he could to brace the air and slow them down. Milo’s grip pressed into his waist. And Zeph lost concentration, a black veil covering his eyes as pain shot through first his waist, and then from the crash.

Before he could fully lose consciousness, blearily looking around him, he saw the humanoid laying on the ground not far beside him, face down on the ground, unmoving.

 _The principles were right_ , he thought, as everything became dizzy and dark. _Foreigners really were just selfish things, and he should never have trusted this one._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!! It's set in a super mega early Milo-Zeph relationship and it was really fun and challenging to write Zeph's point of view on this! I really need to re-write the first chapter (since this one is a direct continuation) and there's some very minor details I would like to change (like the name of the poachers, or the way I described some stuff, which wouldn't make a whole lot of sense since it's from Zeph's perspective)
> 
> So as usual till now, this was a prompt fill, chosen by yours truly! This is another thing I had been planning for a while, and I'm really happy I could kick it off this way! It also kind of makes me want to write more early Milo-Zeph, but it'll have to wait a little, heh.
> 
> If you enjoyed it, let me know all about it!


	3. Loss of Control/Messy Cleanup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thaska's Backstory. Heed the tags in the beginning note.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter's tags: loss of control, messy cleanup, gore, betrayal, minor character death, hurt no comfort

Thaska grabbed his opponent’s arm and threw him on the ground, the other’s body echoing throughout the room with a resounding  _ thump _ .

Both of them were out of breath, but Thaska had half a smirk on his face, and his eyes had the undeniable spark of victory. His opponent, once the shock of being thrown on the ground faded out, started to laugh in return.

Thaska helped him up, grasping his arm.

“Wow I’ll never beat you, will I?” Kaeron said, once he got back to his feet.

“If you work harder, maybe.”

His childhood friend scoffed, and they both made their way off the training grounds.

* * *

Thaska adjusted his uniform as he heard his childhood friend crash and bump into every piece of furniture they could have had. He could hear a few swear words, as he finished adjusting his cuffs- they always felt too tight on his fur. 

Judging from the way Kaeron kept swearing, he had the same problem. He turned around, only to see his friend trying to button up his jacket as fast as he could. He had misaligned the buttons.

“You should hurry. The ceremony won’t wait for you.” He only got a glare in return and Kaeron kept fumbling with his uniform. Thaska glanced at the clock, before starting to make his way towards the door. “I’m going already.”

His friend called for him, telling him to keep a seat as the door closed.

* * *

He stood straight amongst the very few recruits that had made the cut. Kaeron was at the end of the row, two persons between them. The extra training they had done together had paid off, he was sure.

Not a word was exchanged during the long minutes where they had been left alone.

Finally, the large door slid open, and all gazes locked on the Elder.

“You will all be assigned different missions.” He started. “The first mission that will be assigned is of extreme delicacy.”

The tension amongst the recruits grew, and a few of them exchanged glances. Thaska didn’t move, solely focused on the Elder, who was in the same uniform as them, save for a few details. He felt the eyes of his pairs on him, before all attention returned to the Elder once he cleared his throat.

“Thaska. You have been assigned this mission. You will come and report to me once this is over.”

The Elder kept assigning the missions, and the people of the Council they had to report to.

“Now that you all know your missions, go ask the details to the members of the Council.” The Elder stated, making a gesture with his hand for everyone to leave. His eyes locked with Thaska as the other left, and, once the two of them remained, he nodded.

Thaska relaxed his posture, ears perking as he approached the old, greying alien. The door opened once again, and they penetrated the room.

“Take a seat, my boy.” They both sat down. “As you know, our previous informant has been found out and executed. It is vital for us to know the whereabouts of the Reign.”

Their whole facility had been raised in hopes of overthrowing the Reign. Thaska had been training for this his entire life, as had everyone else there. 

He would need to infiltrate one of the main bases of the Reign and step up to be the new informant. It was more than he had expected as a mission, but he would be able to do it. He would have to be perfect off the bat, but he could start out by observing the enemy before joining their troops.

“You will have to report to me regularly, as well as transfer the information to this device. It is connected to our base.” He placed the small, square device in Thaska’s hand. The Elder’s ears perked for an instant, before he gave him a warm smile. “Now I think your friend is waiting for you. You will have to leave in two days.”

Just enough time to bid goodbye to everyone.

* * *

“I can’t believe you got the mission of ‘extreme delicacy’!” Kaeron exclaimed, mimicking the Elder on the last words.

They were in the cafeteria, and had barely sat down at the table, where the other recruits were. A few of them waved hello. The atmosphere was much more relaxed than in the room. Thaska got asked questions about his mission, and he replied. 

Everyone at the table stopped eating to stare at Thaska. 

Well, now  _ that _ felt uncomfortable.

The food fell off of someone’s fork, before his childhood best friend finally broke the silence with an awed “Woooow!”

Kaeron scooched closed, an excited grin at the edge of his lips. “That’s super cool Thaska! I knew you were good, but I would never have thought you’d be  _ that  _ good!”

The table resumed the conversation, a few of them complaining about how lame their mission was in comparison.

Kaeron’s smile didn’t exactly reach his eyes, Thaska noticed.

* * *

“Are you alright?” Thaska asked right as he closed their room’s door. He could ask, now that they weren’t in public anymore. “You’ve been off since you learnt about my mission.”

Kaeron tensed for a moment, before his whole composure dropped. His ears dropped low.

“Yeah,” he replied, sounding slightly bitter. “It’s just that you got this awesome kick-ass mission, while I have to make alternative trade routes and check over the ships engines from here.”

Thaska shifted his weight from one foot to another. He was not used to this kind of conversation.

“I’m just... “ His friend kept going, crossing his arms. “I’m just jealous I guess. My mission’s kind of shitty.”

Before Thaska could open his mouth to say sorry, his friend let out a loud, frustrated groan, throwing his head back slightly. He took a few strides to dump himself on the couch. 

“Whatever!” Kaeron patted the empty spot next to him. “Wanna watch dumb romantic series before you leave off?”

The tension in the room was gone, suddenly. Thaska sat down. “You know how much I dislike those.”

Kaeron snickered. “Oh please, I saw you sniff back your tears the other day. Besides-” He grabbed the remote. “- you keep watching them with me.”

* * *

Thaska had easily infiltrated the Reign’s base. It only took a few days of waiting and observing, as he had planned. A bunch of new recruits were to start their work there, and all Thaska had to do was to slip in.

Unfortunately, new recruits usually meant low ranks. He couldn’t exactly do all as he pleased, and the first pieces of information he had been hearing about were trivial. He was pretty sure the facility already had the Reign’s base plans. Still, he sent the information to them, as well as a few routes ships would take, when he overheard the mechanics complaining about it.

It had already been a few weeks, and nobody was suspecting him. Still, the base decided to send him backup, hoping for the intel to come faster. He didn’t have much information about who he would work with, aside that he would know who it was once the other’s arrival would be confirmed.

He pocketed the device, and exited the room. 

Today, he would probably be able to get new routes, as well as upper management intel, if he played it safe.

* * *

Thaska’s unit had been assigned to an outside mission. It didn’t please him too much, as he had to be extra-careful with the device, but at least, he could send regular updates on how to avoid them. He would have to ask money out of the few planets that were under the Reign.

As much as he didn’t like it, he flawlessly went through the mission, as far as to defend parts of the unit when they got attacked by a bunch of people as they were returning to their spaceship.

He got congratulated by his superior.

* * *

When they arrived back at the Reign’s base after a few days out on the mission, Thaska spotted a familiar tuft of hair amongst recruits. He had to force himself to keep his usual stern face.

Having a smile when he was known to be cold had a possibility of bringing too much attention to himself.

Still, he knew he looked more relaxed and his eyes probably had a twinkle in them, as he made eye contact with Kaeron, who sent him half a smile, as he probably tried to keep serious for the same reasons.

Once he found an empty room, he notified the facility the backup had arrived, as well as made his report to explain measures they could take to help the planets they had landed on for the mission.

* * *

They didn’t get to speak often, but knowing his childhood friend was around was a huge help to soothe the feeling of being trapped and cornered. 

He knew that, theoretically, he was still inches away from being trapped and cornered, as it was his job. While he didn’t like the Reign’s way of functioning, he still had to act as if it wasn’t repulsive, and carried out his missions with a cold precision.

Those missions became harder and harder, as he was sent out with other recruits outside the base. It was harder to send information when he had to spend his entire days with people, and be on the move.

Thaska hated civilians’ screams.

* * *

While he performed great as both soldier of the Reign and informant for the facility, the messages he got from his home were getting cryptic, as a lot of their missions had started to end up being failures. 

He quickly couldn’t bear having to see the reports of his base being so negative. They barely had escaped everytime, and Thaska knew that if he didn’t step up, they could start losing some of their people, or worse, get discovered.

That night, Thaska sneaked around the base.

As he did most of the following nights.

* * *

He stood straight amongst the other soldiers, as the Lieutenant was walking through the troops.

His uniform felt too tight, and he had a hard time keeping his hands from shaking. He knew that from the outside, he looked impeccable. As he had been looking ever since he arrived there, but this situation was definitely one he didn’t want to be in.

“I have heard one of you let information from  _ our _ base leak.” The lieutenant said, as he stepped behind him. 

Thaska’s breath came out as slightly shaky.

Had he been discovered somehow? He had made sure nobody had eyes on him, and the first thing he did when he started sneaking out at night was checking where the cameras had been. He had learnt their pattern by heart. He had checked the cameras too, most of the time, and erased the moments where he snuck around. 

Still… was it not enough? Had he failed? He felt the light weight of the device under his uniform.

If he was to be revealed, and most likely killed for it, he would have to destroy the device.

Kaeron would have to take over.

_ Kaeron _ .

What if it was him, that hadn’t been careful enough? He restrained himself, trying not to look around him to see where Kaeron was. He had to keep the mask up. Up until the last moments.

The Lieutenant barked a name, and the guy next to Thaska lost all composure. He was hyperventilating and his gaze was unfocused, switching from place to place. He was about to try to run for his life.

“Grab him!” the Lieutenant snarled as the other started bolting.

Thaska grabbed him by the collar, and the other soldier, who was on the other side of the informant, did the same. They brought him forward to the Lieutenant.

They followed him while the poor guy tried to break free, only to fail over and over again. He ended up just whimpering as they went along in the corridors.

Thaska hated this. 

He couldn’t do anything else without endangering his facility. He couldn’t do anything else, as he helped hold the traitor still while he was being handcuffed. He couldn’t do anything as he had to step back behind the Lieutenant.

He couldn’t do anything as the Lieutenant ordered them to shoot.

He couldn’t do anything, but he would never forget the way the traitor’s blood splattered on the walls, and his cries were cut short.

* * *

He stood outside of the Lieutenant’s quarters, trying to fix the cuff of his uniform that was pulling on his fur the wrong way.

After a few seconds which felt way too long, he gave up, and knocked at the door. The flat voice of the Lieutenant replied for him to get in. He obeyed.

“You asked to see me, Lieutenant?”

The other’s eyes scrutinized him for a moment. He knew it wouldn’t be regarding his information breaking, as it had gone very differently with the other guy. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel anxious as the older alien looked at him in silence.

“I have been reviewing your folder, soldier.”

He looked down and, indeed, there was his folder on the table. Was the info in it not pertinent enough? Had he been revealed? 

“Congratulations, soldier. You’re due for a promotion.”

* * *

A promotion meant he had a little bit more freedom around the base. He was still occasionally sent out for missions with a squadron, but he had more private quarters. Which meant he could send information more easily… and get more important information as well.

Nonetheless, it didn’t ease out his worries.

He knew what happened to people that betrayed the Reign, and he had been the executioner. He just didn’t know how worse it would be for someone that had started climbing the ladder. Would they try to pry out where he had been sending the information first?

Now, he couldn’t even meet up with Kaeron anymore, as it would be weird rank-wise. He wouldn’t have the words of encouragement from his friend anymore.

But it was okay. Thaska was in control.

He knew he was in control.

They wouldn’t have promoted him otherwise.

* * *

A few weeks later, he was promoted once more.

* * *

He sat in the meeting room, amongst high-ranking members, as they chatted of which missions they would have to give out. How to crush some semblance of rebellion on certain planets. Thaska tried to remember as much information as he could. This would definitely be useful for the facility.

If they could somehow send some messengers to tell the organisations on planets to keep it quiet, maybe most of the soldiers would just pass by, showing they have weapons, but not showing they could be fired.

Maybe they would be able to build up a communication network, where the rebellion against the Reign would grow stronger. This was incredibly valuable information. He couldn’t wait to transfer all that data.

Thaska spoke up when he was asked to, proposing plans to crush the rebellions. They were elaborated and cold. He, however, tried to set up a condition. They wouldn’t attack unless the rebellion was proved real.

A few of the superior officers stared at him, doubt on their faces. 

He quickly backed up his statement. After all, if they lost more lives, it could impact the productivity of the planet. They would get less resources. Moreover, if they killed innocent civilians, instead of rebels, it could generate even more rebels. 

They ended up relying heavily on his plan.

Thaska smiled internally. It meant he had even more power and room to coordinate with the facility, and save lives. 

* * *

Thaska was supposed to be the lead of operations on the mission. However, a day before they were meant to leave, a last-minute council meeting had been formed. When people were sitting down, it was less orderly than usual. Obviously, not everyone knew about the information - that at least reassured Thaska.

He felt a small vibration from the device. He had received news from the base.

Usually, the base would send him news and instructions at a precise hour, usually when it was time for everyone to sleep. Just to lower the risks of being found out. 

Something was wrong.

The Lieutenant, the one that had called for the emergency meet-up, finally arrived in the room. He had his usual composed face, and walked as if it was a normal, scheduled meeting. The room fell to silence, and all eyes turned to the man.

Thaska could feel the fur on his back raise up.

The Lieutenant opened his mouth, a sneer on his face. “I have been informed that a rebel facility has been coordinating their forces with the planet. We have a hold of their current location, although we will have to act fast.”

He felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore.

It would have to be fine. It had to be. There probably were other facilities he didn’t know about. It had to be fine. Everything was alright.

“Thaska. You will be the one carrying out the mission for their extermination.”

* * *

It was his facility.

His facility had been discovered. But how? He had been careful of everything he had ever done. And no reports from the facility itself explained that some of theirs had been discovered. 

What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t go and exterminate them, but refusing would be too suspicious. And if he was interrogated, it could surely mean execution or worse for him. 

Thaska paced in his room, not knowing how to work out the stress. His hands were pulling at his ears. He could tell them to run away, but the Lieutenant had gone deep into explanations on how they had to strike now because they weren’t aware of anything, according to his information.

Where did he even get the information to begin with?!

He snatched the device out of his uniform, and stared at it.

He had to stay focused. Everything was going to be okay. The first thing to do would be to alert them. Surely, multiple minds would help getting around the problem. They would find a way. Maybe they could fake him failing his mission, or… or something.

The device lit up, and Thaska quickly sent in his message. He explained everything he had heard at the emergency meeting.

That’s when he remembered he had been contacted.

He opened the message and his blood ran cold.

_ “We have found the spaceship and body of your backup. His communication device was nowhere to be found.” _

Kaeron couldn’t be… ?

No. 

No, no,  _ no. _

His friend wouldn’t be dead. It was impossible. He knew Kaeron. He would have raised hell before being beaten down. They couldn’t have just killed him off in a spaceship. He had trained his whole life with Kaeron. He was a tough opponent! He could fight dirty when he needed to.

Thaska pretended to do a perimeter check before going to sleep. To make sure everything would be prepared for tomorrow’s mission on the facility.

He couldn’t find Kaeron before going back to his room.

* * *

He didn’t exactly manage to rest that night, unsurprisingly. 

He had been awake most of the night, and didn’t even think of getting out of his uniform. The facility had given him no answer. No follow back.

He didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t exactly great at improvising outside of combat. 

Yet, mechanically, he stood up from his bed, smoothed down the wrinkles from his uniform, and made his way towards the ship bay. A small troop was already waiting for him there. All of the men he was supposed to lead were present. 

He climbed in the ship after he got saluted, and sat down.

He couldn’t come up with anything. He was going to have to kill his friends and family. Or take on roughly ten soldiers at once, possibly get revealed as a traitor. Or he could try to isolate himself in the ship, somehow, and ask for the Facility to execute him on sight.

He knew he would never be able to bring himself to hurt the Facility. Being killed by them would probably allow him a quick death, instead of… what would happen if they realized a high-ranking officer had been leaking information ever since he got on the base.

The ship started landing, and Thaska still didn’t know what to do. He had thought about it for way too long. Got lost in his thoughts. He knew some of the soldiers that accompanied him on the mission were staring at him. 

He felt a cold shiver run down his spine as he saw the Facility’s- his  _ home _ \- door. He could hear the soldiers talking to each other, but it was covered by the sound of his heart thumping in his ears.

His tail was swinging back and forth.

He didn’t know what to do.

He didn’t know what to  _ do! _

He wouldn’t be able to do this. What was he supposed to say?

He raised his hand next to his face, shutting up the soldiers. Everything seemed slowed down. Every pair of eyes were on him. His hand was trembling slightly. He could feel his throat clench up. It was getting hard to breathe under his helmet.

He brought his arm back down in a go motion, as a soldier hacked the door open. They all rushed in.

Thaska was suffocating.

He could picture what would happen as soon as the second door would open.

The facility’s trained soldiers- and trainees- being ready to fight. What would he do, then? 

Turn on the Reign’s soldiers? Risk having one of them escape? Fake-fight with someone from the Facility? Would his presence throw off the Facility? Would it make them easier targets because of the distraction?

The soldiers readied their weapon, charging them already as they were finishing hacking.

Thaska had half a mind to look like he was even planning on defending himself from the “enemy”. 

They weren’t enemies. They were his  _ home. _ He was sent on a mission to destroy, and exterminate his own  _ home _ .

His gun never felt heavier. Thaska closed his eyes.

The second door opened.

Silence met the soldiers. The hallway was completely empty.

Another cold, suffocating shiver of wrong went down his body to settle in the pit of his stomach. This hallway was often busy. Or, at the very least, you could hear sounds coming from further down each end. 

The Facility was eerily silent.

It was probably fine, he decided to convince himself. Everything would be fine. They had seen his message, even if it was a bit later than intended, and they had escaped. They had to have escaped.

Or they probably were in one of the biggest rooms, in the center of the ship. This had to be it.

Thaska forced himself not to step that direction, as he was supposed not to know about this place. Some soldiers already had their eyes on him.

He had taken too much time before giving another order. He forced the tightness of his throat away.

“Disperse.” He ordered. His voice had almost cracked.

If the soldiers went in on their own ways, it would be easier for the facility to take them down right? And he probably would have more chances to be alone, to think the situation over. Or with someone, if they were in the central room.

As the soldiers each went their own ways, Thaska let out a shaky breath, lowering his gun.

He had to keep himself together. He couldn’t lose it now. Now it was too dangerous. Both for the Facility and for his survival. He would have to make it. He had to find a solution. 

He looked down the hallway that led to the central room, desperately wanting to get there, wanting to see someone. Yet he couldn’t help but hope nobody would be there. 

He had to think rationally.

He couldn’t just run down hallways to seek comfort when he wasn’t sure there would be in the first place. Reign’s soldiers were roaming everywhere, and he knew that being seen too familiar with the place would make them more suspicious than they already were. 

He had to get to the control room first. If he checked the cameras, he would know what to do. He would have better leverage on this mess. He could sort it out. He could get back in control. Everything would be okay.

Everything had to be okay.

* * *

The walk to the control room had been too silent. He had passed two usually crowded areas from the Facility, and he couldn’t hear anything coming from them.

With each step he had taken, the burden he felt at the bottom of his stomach kept growing and growing.

He opened the door, closed it behind him, in a motion he had learned by heart when he was sending the information from the Reign’s base. All the monitors were darkened, but he still approached the station. A light was gently fading in and out of the screen. 

_ 1 New Transmission _

Thaska opened it.

_ “Emergency report :  _

_ The Reign has made an unexpected meeting with higher-ups I have been summoned to and... ” _

He didn’t read the rest.

They hadn’t read his message. They were unaware of what was happening.

He worked on getting the monitors to start again, while the shaking of his hands had worsened.

Dozens of camera-monitors lit up at once, blinding him for a few seconds. 

When his eyes finally adjusted to the light… he wished he never had. 

Every screen was littered by bodies. Some were in uniform. Some were out of it. He couldn’t precisely say how, but one thing was sure.

They were dead.

Thaska’s knees buckled and he caught himself on the desk, eyes looking down. The message he had sent was still open. He had sent it too late. 

He had been too late.

He was too  _ late. _

Everything inside of him felt like it was being crushed and pulled. He felt like everything was becoming dark around him. He felt like he was being pushed into it as well.

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t see anything but the glaring light of the screens, and his hands. In a Reign’s uniform. He wasn’t there.

He had been too late.

Movement caught in his eyes, as a previously blackened monitor flickered to life. He turned towards it, both surprised and desperate.

It was the central room.

All the dark that had seemed to engulf him disappeared. Everything was too bright. He was too aware of what was happening. The central room.

Reign soldiers entered it.

Thaska’s heart thumped faster than ever as he bolted out of the room.

* * *

He wasn’t too late. 

He could still save someone! He could still save his home. He could still know at least  _ one _ was alive!

He didn’t care if he would be found out by the soldiers. He didn’t care if he was exposed as a traitor and executed.

He had a chance.

He had one last chance.

As he turned the last corner and - finally,  _ finally _ \- heard commotion, he saw a silhouette further down the hall, fiddling with the panel on the side, which was used to open or close the door it was standing in front of.

Hope and relief flushed through Thaska’s entire system.

He would have recognized that slice in the upper left ear anywhere, as well as the unkempt home-cut hair, that still had locks stuck between his two sets of ears.

“Kaeron!” Thaska’s voice cracked as he exclaimed, running even faster toward his friend. 

His friend turned around, seemingly confused.

He kept running towards him… until he felt something slam into the side of his head, sending him tumbling straight into the hallway wall. His helmet clattered and rolled on the floor. Before he could fully recover, something cold pressed against his throat, and he grabbed at it instinctually, trying to shove it off.

Kaeron was towering over him, pressing the gun he hadn’t seen dangling off his side into his neck. 

Thaska didn’t move for a few seconds, only trying to shove the gun off so his windpipe wouldn’t be crushed. His friend seemed under a craze.

His eyes were filled with pure hatred.

Placing a foot against, Kaeron’s middle, he shoved him off and tried to take a few steps back, coughing at the sudden release of pressure. “Wh.. What?”

Kaeron started giggling, straightening when he regained his balance. “Oh, please. Don’t tell me you didn’t know?”

Thaska was still panting slightly, and only starting to wrap his mind around the current situation. He could still hear people fight inside the central room. One glance at the padlock told him all the entrances to the room had just been locked.

His confusion must have shown, because Kaeron giggled again, snapping him back in focus, before he was charged again.

A gunshot grazed his arm, and if it hadn’t been for his reflexes alone, he would have been pinned against the wall again. “You had no clue!”

He blocked a swing, wincing when it nearly caught his fresh wound. “It’s amazing seeing you like this, Thaska. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to see you this way. Confused, panicked and lost.”

Another shot ran in the hall, it had been wide, this time. Still, Thaska had stiffened and moved away from it. Kaeron swung the whole gun at his face again, getting too close, too fast. His feet caught up into something as he backed away, and he fell down hard on the ground. 

Before he could scramble up, still trying to understand all that was happening, Kaeron put down his foot on his chest, forcing him back down. He held his gun loosely on his shoulder, a warm grin on his face.

“I won! See I did work harder.”

The sound of gunshots and fighting got louder behind the locked door. He could see the bodies that had been left on the ground as they had been killed, including the one he had tripped onto. Kaeron had some blood spatters on his uniform, and, as Thaska distantly noticed, some of his fur and clothes was blackened, as if he had been..

“Oh yeah!” Kaeron exclaimed, putting more pressure on his chest, as he started fumbling for something in the small bag that was resting on his belt. “I’m sure you’re gonna love this!”

He pulled out a small device that awfully looked like a switch, waving it slightly to the side. It had the Reign’s emblem on it. “It was a pain killing that guy and stealing his spot to get to you, but it was definitely worth it.” 

Thaska could only stare in shock as his… friend? Enemy? Pressed his heel deeper into his ribs. “You lost it so beautifully!”

Another bright grin. “I can’t wait to see more!”

And he pressed the switch.

A detonation was heard behind the two of them. Screams were louder, then brutally interrupted. The door dented towards them. The other smell in the air, much more subtle in comparison to the blood, had been powder. Kaeron’s soot covered foot dug harder into him, as he let out another giggle, throwing the switch to the side.

Thaska saw red.

He grabbed Kaeron’s foot and rolled over, making sure he would lose his balance. He received a harsh punch across the jaw as it did work. He managed to roll over Kaeron, the other one having grabbed one of his upper ears, and pulling on it.

Thaska punched him. Up until he felt like his ear was about to be torn from his skull. Up until Kaeron’s fucking  _ giggles _ stopped.

Kaeron let go, but Thaska didn’t stop punching. Over and over. He wouldn’t stop giggling.

“You-” Kaeron got interrupted by a fist to the nose, and an ugly groan that got quickly covered by another of his giggles. “-really think…”

Another punch.

“I would’ve let…”

Another punch. Thaska felt something crack.

“... you win?”

Another giggle, but this time, Thaska paused instead of letting it fuel his rage. Kaeron had another remote in his hands, thumb already against the button, and a bloody smile on his beaten face.

A string of muffled, high pitched noises started to ring, each coming up closer than the last. Thaska’s ears dropped low, and Kaeron’s grin creeped even further when he realized.

Kaeron had a bomb on himself. 

He tore himself away from him, and tried putting some distance as Kaeron started giggling once again. The beeps merged together, making one single shrill note before it exploded. Thaska was barely a few meters away.

He could feel the explosion before he heard it.

He was thrown on the ground, head hitting it painfully. Something meaty hit the center of his back. He tried staying awake, but trying to keep conscious was already an effort that made his stomach lurch.

His eyes rolled in the back of his head.

* * *

It felt like the shrill sound had never stopped, when he came back to.

It took him awhile for his ears to finally stop ringing, and for his sight to stop being blurry. Nothing was entirely clear - and he was pretty sure he had a harder time hearing anything, too. Before, the hallways were silent, but there was the usual low-buzzing noise coming from the engine keeping gravity on the Facility.

Here it was complete silence.

He put a steady hand under his shoulder, then the other, and slowly pushed himself to his knees. His entire back felt scorched. When something slid down his back onto the ground, he hissed in pain.

He was panting by the time he was in a sitting position, but at least, if anything, his head felt slightly clearer. 

He was much further than where he was when the bomb exploded.

In the corridor, the bodies on the ground had been pushed back, and he saw pieces of… 

If time seemed awfully drowsy and slow when he came to, all of what had happened rushed back to him when he saw a blown up piece of… someone. Looking at the burnt remains of clothes that stuck to the body part didn’t exactly help identifying it. And it was a good thing.

Keeping his gaze low to avoid looking at the exploded parts, Thaska tried standing up.

It took him a few tries, but before long, he was on his two wobbly legs, standing, and stumbling away from the corridor. 

He had to get away. Find a place quieter, less bloody. He had to process. He had to calm down.

Before he could even make his first turn, two hands rested on his shoulders, straightening him a bit. He looked up to a soldier looking concerned, calling him by his title and name. 

“Sir, are you okay?” The soldier asked once again, when Thaska kept staring at him blankly. 

He distantly nodded. The other took his hands off his shoulders, and straightened, doing the Reign’s salute. Thaska had half a mind to replicate the gesture, although sluggishly, before authorizing the soldier to speak.

“The rebel facility has been cleared out. A bomb detonated in the room most of the members had taken refuge in. A few soldiers from our squadron have been injured, but none died.”

Once again, Thaska simply nodded, accepting the grim news. Nobody from his home survived. He had failed. All of this was his fault.

He should have been faster.

The soldier peeked into the corridor, and gave a low whistle, before turning a questioning gaze to Thaska. He refused to follow the soldier’s sight, yet, explained himself, mechanically. He could at least count on that working right. Months of training to lie allowed him to at least look somewhat natural.

“I had to take care of a traitor.” He ignored the awe in the other’s face. “I will contact the Base. Reassemble the squadron at the main entrance.” 

The soldier gave him another salute, and ran off. He still looked excited.

Thaska couldn’t care less. 

He took out the Reign’s communication’s device and announced the success of their mission, explaining some soldiers were wounded. Not even a minute later, he received an answer.

Another ship was on its way, with the medical team, and a few other soldiers, that would help the current squadron clear up the facility, and look for information that could help the Reign’s cause. 

He wouldn’t let them.

They couldn’t find what his home had spent so long working for. All of this couldn’t go to waste.

* * *

Making a detour back to the control room to delete all the data that could be useful to the Reign had made him later than he would have liked to meet back the squadron at the entrance.

Like the soldier had said, a few of them were injured, but nothing too lethal. Some healing balm and a few nights’ rest would do the job nicely. He probably would use some balm for his ears himself. Everything was still muffled.

When he arrived, the squadron looked to him, and the chatter quieted. He spotted a few of them looking at him in wonder. Those were noticeably closer to the soldier that had reported. He probably had told them about the hallway, and whatever he had understood from it.

He also noticed a few soldiers- the injured ones, mostly- looking a bit hollow. A lot of them had seen death from up close. A few of them for the first time.

It hadn’t been the first time Thaska had seen death. 

This time certainly had been the most impactful, however.

Even if he wanted nothing else than to pass by them, take the ship and go far, far away to wherever, he cleared his throat. 

The soldiers listened as he explained the next course of action.

Bodies and any remaining body parts would have to be cleared out and burnt. Not only would it ensure them that no information would be sent further ahead, but burning the bodies, according to the Reign, was the best way to erase the people from history. No remains would be there to speak about it.

It was burning them out of existence. Literally, and metaphorically.

Once that would be done, the team of techs would hack any device they’d find to extract information. 

* * *

With only a few more minutes of waiting, the medic and backup team arrived. They quickly took care of everyone. 

Thaska had stared at the ground, apathy eating at his heart. He barely replied to the medic’s question about his health, only giving him the basics. He had been shot. He had been caught in an explosion. He might need balm for his ears. 

He refused to say anything more, especially when it came to details on how it came to happen. The soldier that had reported to him seemed more than happy to also report that, anyway.

They bandaged his wounded arm, and started applying balm on his back.

A lot of details were completely wrong.

He hadn’t single-handedly defeated a whole corridor of enemies. Nor had he heroically avoided a bomb one of the ‘filthy rebels’ had hidden.

His home had been murdered, he had been betrayed by his closest friend.

He had failed.

Hands started prodding at his ears. He resisted the need to flip them away from grasp, and stared at his feet.

He should have been faster.

* * *

They had started taking care of the bodies.

It wasn’t a pretty sight. Even if they piled them in a specific container, the blood remained. 

It looked straight out of a horror movie.

He wished it was a horror movie.

If it was, he wouldn’t have had to put a name on nearly every face when he would pick someone from the floor. Although he knew already, even when they were two on the task, a dead body was heavy.

He threw the corpse - Dakhar, a cook that complained about everyone being too weak for the expensive spice they occasionally got - in the machine floating alongside them, and heard it start burning the body. Not even a few minutes later, ashes fell into a container attached to it.

He threw the recruits that had excitedly chatted about their brand new missions months ago at his table.

The Elder.

Members from the Council.

When they passed by the medical bay, the soldiers - as well as the medics that helped them on the job - raided any kind of medicine the facility had. Soon, the shelves were cleared out.

They also threw the children that hadn’t been spared either.

Thaska didn’t want to think.

So he didn’t.

He just let himself do everything without thinking. He couldn’t think about mourning now. Both for his mental state and his survival.

Although the soldier’s amazement spread to others. 

Thaska couldn’t care less.

He thought he had been lucky when they avoided the central room. He didn’t want to see what had happened there. Yet, his small team arrived down a path he wished he didn’t see again.

The chunk of flesh that had slid down his back and that had been not far from him were still at the same spot. The soldiers with him bent down and grabbed a body part.

It was a forearm. The cuff was still around it and recognizable. So were the chipped claws.

“A Reign uniform?” One of the soldiers wondered, turning the limb around. “Sir, you’ve been fighting in this hallway, am I correct?”

“It was a traitor.” Thaska replied, eyes focused elsewhere.

And it was. 

Saying it out loud didn’t make him feel any better.

He should’ve seen it too. How had he been blinded by Kaeron?

_ “I won! See I did work harder.” _

Thaska gritted his teeth.

The soldiers gave an appreciative hum, and threw the arm in the incinerator.

Even though it was their last stop, the hallway had been the worst to clean up.

It took every ounce of Thaska not to break down right here and then once he had to start picking up exploded parts.

* * *

The work had been done.

They were going back to the Reign’s Base.

The healing balm had long started taking effect, sending his body to a slumber.

They first stopped at the medical bay, so they could check their injuries with proper equipment.

Then, as they went back to the open grounds, a high-ranked officer announced a meeting time where they would make their collective report the next day. For now, as the officer put it, Thaska’s squadron and Thaska himself had to get their “well deserved rest.”

Thaska didn’t deserve it.

Yet, once he reached his quarters, he methodically took off his destroyed and stained uniform, washed himself off, and crashed in bed.

* * *

When he woke up, his alarm had been screaming for a long time already.

The balm’s effect probably had sapped a lot of his energy, as it usually did. At least his wounds were already in better shape. Energy was a small price to pay for a swift recovery.

He turned the alarm off, and sat up.

His arms and back were still sore, and slightly injured.

He didn’t care. He knew the medical team would shove the balm back on them, but truthfully? Thaska was certain he deserved them. 

He should have suffered through the long recovery.

Even that wouldn’t have been enough.

He eyed the time.

He was going to be late.

His gaze fell back on the floor.

He was going to be late.

He hardly cared.

His home had been exterminated. 

It was his fault.

His throat felt tight.

He should have been faster.

His hands curled into fists, scratching at his thighs as he did so.

And what now?

He was  _ useless _ .

He eyed the time again.

He was late.

* * *

He closed the door behind him, his new uniform poking into his injuries, and excused himself for being late, blaming it on the effect of the healing balm.

The Squadron, those that had been injured especially gave him a mix of understanding reactions, while the high-ranking officer nodded, and invited him to sit down to report.

So he did.

He left out a few details, such as knowing the layout of the Facility, going into the control room a second time to erase the information the Reign couldn’t find in the end. 

He tried summarizing what had happened in the hallway at best, without his throat seizing up.

Once he was done, the room fell into silence as the officer evaluated the report. He then nodded to himself and stood back up. “You really downplayed your role in your report.”

Thaska frowned, but listened.

“Your squadron has been explaining your involvement to me this whole time.” The officer looked proud. A few of the soldiers looked away bashfully when Thaska cast his gaze on them instead. “This meeting is dismissed.”

The squadron stood up, made the Reign’s salute, and left the room. Thaska was about to do the same, albeit slower due to being injured and unable to think about anything else than his home, but the officer stopped him. “Accompany me to my office.”

The walk was short and silent, yet the officer seemed content, his step was light.

Thaska’s wasn’t.

The officer sat down at his desk, his grin growing by the second, as Thaska stood stiff by the door. He noticed his folder on his desk.

“Congratulations. Thanks to your outstanding leadership abilities and the level-headedness you’ve demonstrated on your previous mission, as well as your skills when it comes to wiping out rebels, as stated by your squadron, we have decided to promote you to the grade of Lieutenant.”

It felt like a cold shower.

* * *

Thaska went on the rest of his days. He was congratulated left and right. The rumour he had taken on a whole hallway of rebels had started to run through. 

People were not only congratulating him for killing, but for killing those who had been his family.

He had gained a new, higher rank within his  _ enemies _ . At the price of the facility’s lives. 

He couldn’t even mourn the lives that had been lost.

Everyone was cheering on him. Everyone was happy their bodies and memories had been burnt away. Everyone congratulated the newly appointed  _ Lieutenant _ Thaska.

He wanted to puke.

He was supposed to be working against them. To be helping the Facility. The ones that had died because of him. He wasn’t supposed to become a heroic figure amongst them.

The medical bay at the end of the day had been the worst. They were applying the balm on the remaining injuries, cooing at the fact it would barely leave a small scar. They congratulated him, going on in detail on his state the previous day. Speaking about the blast in terms that made Thaska understand they knew how close he had been to the blast.

They seemed to buy into the hero even more due to the fact his body was apparently more resistant than the norm.

He hated it.

He hated it all.

* * *

The balm was already making him drowsy, yet he sat on his bed, staring at the bloodied uniform that was still on the ground. He had forgotten to throw it away.

Kaeron had betrayed them.

Kaeron had betrayed  _ him _ .

He had put his whole trust in him, into his childhood friend and… and he had tried to explode the both of them.

He had killed everyone. Because Thaska couldn’t realize sooner.

He scratched at his thighs, trying to get Kaeron’s last giggles out of his head.

His uniform was taunting him right as Kaeron’s taunts replaced the giggles.

A burst of rage exploded within his chest and through his throat as he yelled in rage. He stood up without a warning and kicked violently in his bloodied uniform. It thumped against the wall before it dropped down softly.

This was pathetic.

He was pathetic.

One of his upper ears perked as he heard a small clatter coming from the uniform.

The communication device the Elder had given him was resting not far from the pile of clothes.

He had put all the data he had deleted from the facility in there. He crouched near it and took it in his hands, almost as if it would break at his touch.

They had trusted him.

The device contained all the information about potential allies.

Thaska choked up, the small device in his hand felt heavier than it ever had. The whole facility had trusted him with it. To keep them safe. To make the Reign’s defenses weaker. To help planets that were being ruled over.

Tears started dampening the fur on his cheeks. Everything was blurry.

But the device in his hand still had everything. It still had their memories. It still had their hard work. And it was still unknown from the Reign.

As he finally let himself break down, Thaska realized.

One member of the facility had survived. 

_ He _ had survived.

And he would make it count.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> I hoped you enjoyed this chapter! 
> 
> The prompt for the challenge was "Loss of control" and "Messy Cleanup". Initially, I thought it would be a small chapter. Something 2k-ish long, but I guess that Thaska's backstory just kept writing itself huh. I ended up with 8k of words. Every time I thought I was done with an idea, something just kept adding to it, and it became what it is now!
> 
> This chapter was part of the [One-Shot Prompt Challenge](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/oneshot_prompts_challenge), and you can find the Ao3 collection we made for it with [TNKT](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TNKT/), the co-creator of this challenge by clicking on the links! Anyone can participate to those challenges, and the goal is to not overthink the story and let loose. Just wrangle the words free!


	4. First Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the launched attack, Thaska wakes up to two aliens that have saved him, and gets to know them.

Thaska came to consciousness thanks to the unmistakable rumbling and crackling from a fire. He could hear a light, metallic scrape, and a quiet hum from a song he didn’t know above his head.

He didn’t remember everything that had led to this. Everything was fuzzy. There were two aliens busting in the room while he was tied to the chair and then…

Then…

He had finally been found out by the Reign, hadn’t he?

He grunted as he fully woke up, sore muscles and painful body from the interrogation waking up with him. He pushed himself up to a sitting position. This simple effort left him nearly breathless, but at least he would be able to assess the current situation.

There were bandages wrapped tight around his chest and middle, his right hand and around his face, going in diagonal across his nose and between his eyes.

His wounds had been tended to. With practice, also.

It was the most visible on the bandages around his hand : nothing seemed out of place. Even the doctors in the medical bay of the central base weren’t always this precise when it came to bandaging somebody.

They were fonder of faster healing methods, usually.

He felt like his head was swimming in a thick tar, unable to fully grasp everything at once. He winced when a small headache settled at his temples.

He tried passing his tongue on his lips to wet them and the inside of his mouth to no avail. Even that movement felt sluggish and pointless.

He looked up towards the crackling fire once he realized the humming had stopped, along with the light metallic scrape. He was met with two owlishly round orange eyes staring at him unblinkingly.

His fur stood straight on his back, and he was sure his tail also doubled in size.

The alien was an avian with bright red feathers, crouching in front of the fire with a ladle in his hand.

A memory pushed its way through the messy haze his mind was currently lost in.

He had seen this alien before, on the ship. He was the one that had untied him, right? The wings were unmistakable, even when bordering unconsciousness. There had been another one with him… vaguely green. He had called the avian’s name but Thaska couldn’t remember it anymore.

“You’re awake.” The other said without real surprise. He put the ladle in a curved piece of metal that was being heated above the fire. He caught the sound of something boiling. This meant the scrap probably was a makeshift pot. The headache didn’t help with the identification. “You have been grunting and whimpering for a while so I guess it was only a matter of time before you woke up, huh?”

The avian’s attention returned on the food he was preparing, moving the ladle around and no longer humming. 

Thaska looked around the camp. Where was the other alien? He couldn’t have hallucinated him. 

But there were no other aliens aside from the avian and himself. He looked behind him, in case the camp was much bigger than he thought, but only saw a massive shipwreck. Upon further identification, it definitely looked like one of the Reign’s escape pods. Had they been _in_ it? With such damage on it, they were lucky it had not exploded. It definitely wouldn’t fly ever again. 

He frowned slightly at the destruction behind him- panels of the ship missing, the nose of it was completely scrunched into the main body of the ship, there were heavy dents all over it. Behind it was a huge brown trail of dirt that had been torn from the ground as they had crashed.

It wasn’t a pretty sight.

He turned back to the fire, rubbing at his left eye.

He immediately regretted the action, as he rubbed too close to the wound on his face. It burnt and itched in the worst way and he tried bringing his hand against it, hissing, hoping it would make the pain stop.

“Don’t mess with your bandages.” The avian’s voice rose up again. Thaska lowered his arm, trying to blink the pain away. It quickly faded into a dull pinch that was uncomfortable, but manageable. The other’s attention was still on him. “The ones around your face were hard to do because of your ears.”

He let go of the ladle to bring his hands on either side of his face, sticking out two fingers on each to mimic Thaska’s ears.

Said ears got flatter against his skull, as Thaska didn’t know what the other was trying to communicate. Was it mockery? The tone hadn’t suggested it, and neither did the other’s expression.

“Did you bandage me?” He asked instead, preferring to lead the conversation elsewhere. The fog in his mind cleared ever so slightly.

The other blinked twice, tilting his head slightly, and opened his mouth to reply.

Before he could however, what he was cooking started boiling loudly and spilling out of the piece of metal. With a small, harmless curse he immediately started scraping the bottom of it, before grabbing a ragged cloth near him, and pulling the makeshift pot away from the fire with it while hissing _hot hot hot_ between his teeth.

Once the hot metal was on the ground, the avian let go of the cloth, shaking rapidly his hand to lessen the pain.

After a few seconds he focused back on Thaska.

“I didn’t.” He answered, still trying to fight the burn by flapping his hand around. “Milo took care of treating your wounds and bandaging you while you were unconscious.”

His attention immediately switched back to his hand, trying to blow on it, and sucking air through his teeth when it apparently didn’t help lessening the pain in any way.

Thaska looked back down at his bandages.

Milo. That was the name of the second one.

So he had survived the crash. He just wasn’t around the camp.

It made sense, actually, when he looked around. There were small details that should have been telling; two cots to sleep on, counting the one he was currently sitting on, two bags, three plates next to the fire - one of them looked like a scrap with a dent in it, like the pot was.

This camp wasn’t made for one. 

It wasn’t made for three either, but it was safe to assume Thaska wasn’t an expected addition. 

The avian took one of the plates, filled it and approached him.

“There!” He said, holding the plate with his left hand, the other, burnt, slightly away from his sides. Still painful for him, probably. The plate was tipping to the side, but the gelatinous food remained inside of it. The left hand apparently was not the other’s favoured one. 

“I’m Zeph, by the way!” He said with a light and cheerful tone.

It sounded like a nickname. 

“Thaska.” He replied after a bit too long. He still felt sluggish and slow, not fully grasping all that had happened yet. In a sense, maybe it wasn’t a bad thing. 

He took the plate from Zeph and shifted to sit in a more comfortable way. Pain shot through his chest and he grimaced as he pushed through it. It hadn’t felt this painful since a good while, and he couldn’t say he had missed it.

He looked at the gelatinous food.

It kind of looked like the stuff they would be served at Homebase when they were caught red-handed while they were up to no good with...

He closed his eyes, less fond memories coming up at the thought of… of _him_.

He had to block them out. He couldn’t start going down that path. It never did him well. He needed a distraction. 

“So… Where is he?” Thaska asked, hoping his voice didn’t sound as tight as it felt. 

Zeph, who was filling a second plate, looked up, freezing entirely to focus on him. The gelatinous food slowly fell down on the plate with a wet, sucking sound.

“Huh?” He replied with raised eyebrows, looking almost comically surprised. “Who?”

Thaska frowned through the headache washing over him. He took a breath in to answer the avian once it had settled- but the other’s face lit up in recognition, and he cheerfully spoke up.

“Oh! You’re speaking about Milo!” He knocked the ladle on the side of the plate to be sure it was empty, and sat back a little bit further. He was a few meters away from Thaska. He pointed at the forest with his striped chin. “He went to get more wood for the night, I hadn’t brought enough back!”

He wiggled his elbows while still holding his plate. “I got tiny arms.”

It wasn’t untrue, Thaska supposed. He poked at his food, watching it jiggle slightly before he shoved the spoon in.

Silence fell between them again as both focused on eating.

Zeph kept giving glances around the forest, and Thaska took his chance to observe him.

It wasn’t often he encountered avians. Most of the planets where they could be found in greater numbers weren’t subjected to the Reign. The few he had seen and talked to when he was making deals with the resistance had been closed off. The most he had gotten was that a majority of bird-like communities were living as outcasts to the world, without an explanation of how or why.

And Zeph was practically their polar opposite.

He seemed to be a complete social butterfly, ready to chat with anyone who would give him the chance… and to save anyone that would give him the chance, too, if the last of his hazy memories of the fight on the ship were correct.

The clothes he was wearing didn’t indicate where he could have hailed from either. He had a vague, hole-ridden, bodysuit that went down the middle of his forearms, and above his knees, and a slightly oversized dirty yellow t-shirt that had been maimed so his wings could pass through. 

One of them was bandaged tight. The white of the bandages was contrasting with his bright red feathers.

He looked back down, deciding to focus on his meal instead. He preferred not to think about the reason his wing was hurt- it was most likely his fault.

* * *

Something fell off in the forest from his right side.

Thaska turned toward the noise, ready to leap into action if needed. In front of him, Zeph straightened, his crest raising and wings folding close to his body, ready to do just the same.

He scrutinized the forest, but couldn’t see much past the density of the woods.

But it wasn’t a silhouette he ended up spotting. It was a plain, green and glowing circle with two triangular marks framing it that floated out from the darkness. It went up and down, in cadence to the sound of crunching leaves, coming straight towards the camp.

Thaska tensed, non-bandaged hand flying to his side, only to find his weapons weren’t there. The sudden movement worsened his headache, painfully reminding him that on top of having lost his gun, he would barely be able to put up a fight.

He glanced at the other alien, hoping that he would be able to fend off for himself, but saw him relaxed once again. He had sat more comfortably and had resumed eating.

The glowing circle had been part of a mask, Thaska realized as a figure stepped out of the woods. And that figure had white hair that was littered by various leaves, and was wearing a large, green poncho that made it impossible to determine any distinguishable traits on who they may have been.

The newcomer, who was holding wood, tilted their head at him.

Nothing on that alien allowed him to determine _anything_ at first glance. There was no body language, and the mask looked like a giant, unblinking eye that was analyzing his every move.

It was creepy.

The hot, churching pulling and twisting of anxiety did nothing to lessen the headache.

“Hey Milo.” Zeph greeted, mouth full with food. The avian’s wings were still drawn closer to his body, but he sounded and looked relaxed nonetheless. “You found wood?”

So _this_ was Milo?

This had been the alien to take care of him while he was unconscious, and the one he owed being alive to.

He was incredibly unsettling, but Thaska could at least try to look less nervous around one of the two that had saved him from certain death.

Milo’s mask turned to face the avian, and he raised the wood in his arms as a reply, before bringing them close to the fire and putting them in a stack.

Thaska tried shifting back to a more comfortable position, but it proved useless when Milo’s attention turned to him again.

The alien stepped towards him without a smidge of hesitation and Thaska felt his fur raise on the back of his neck and tail again. 

When Milo raised his arms to grab at him, Thaska stiffened and stopped him, holding him at the wrists. He felt the other’s muscles tense in return, and the mask stared him down.

“What are you doing.” Thaska asked flatly.

He glanced at Zeph, hoping to get some form of help from him, but he was focused on his burnt hand, poking it and grimacing.

No help from Zeph then. 

He focused back on Milo when he took a step back, pulling his previously held wrists closer to himself. He pointed at Thaska’s chest from a safer distance.

“Checking your wounds.” He said. The voice was distorted and muffled by the mask, barely sounding like it came from Milo. He hadn’t heard him inhale before talking, there had been next to no gesture to tell him he was about to speak. Even his voice sounded emotionless.

Thaska didn’t think he would ever manage to relax with someone like this around him.

One of Milo’s hands disappeared under his poncho, and came back out just as fast with a small, recognizable container. He nudged it slightly in his direction, as if to prove his previous statement.

Healing cream.

Right. Milo was the one that had been healing and bandaging him while he was unconscious. 

That wouldn’t miraculously change for no reason.

He avoided Milo’s gaze when he looked down at his chest. His uniform was still open on the bandages. They had shifted a bit as he had moved, and were slightly tainted pink. Had he bled?

He started shrugging off the top of his uniform and Milo immediately crouched in front of him to start working on the bandages. If he hadn’t been tense before, he certainly would have been now.

He crossed gazes with Zeph, who gave him an encouraging thumb up when he saw his unease.

It really didn’t help, but he appreciated the sentiment.

He grimaced when the cold air hit his wounds and he got to see what they were like. He distantly knew what they would look like, as he was still conscious when he received them, but the memory was hazy and unfocused. That was probably when he had been teetering the edge of passing out.

But here? 

Even cleaned up, they weren’t pretty.

Milo threw the bandages in the fire, put the healing cream on the ground, and took out disinfectant that he rubbed over his gloves. It dried out quickly, and the small bottle disappeared back under the poncho.

He opened the healing cream, and spread some on his fingers.

Somehow, Thaska had thought he would have taken the gloves off.

“Might hurt.” was the only warning he got before the cream was rubbed down his wounds.

Thaska hissed at the cold and pain that pulsed along with the pressure. He grabbed at the ground to keep himself from pushing Milo away from his work, knowing it would probably do more harm than good.

It wasn’t the first time he was treated with healing cream, but it usually was on smaller injuries. The bigger ones usually granted them a healing pod, but the ship they had taken to escape didn’t have one.

And even if it did, a healing pod would probably have had very little chance to have survived the crash, considering its state.

Milo made a swift work of applying the cream. It was precise and methodical. It still hurt like hell, and he still had to grit his teeth through it, but he was certain it could have been much, much more painful.

He let out a sigh when it was over, and looked down at the healing cream’s container. It was almost empty.

He didn’t get to contemplate it for much longer as it retreated under the poncho to be replaced by bandages.

Milo made a gesture so Thaska would raise his arms, and, once he did, started to wrap bandages around his middle. The proximity made it all much harder to relax, but the cream’s sedative effect kicked in relatively fast. 

While Thaska didn’t really rejoice at the idea of being vulnerable and asleep in front of two aliens he barely knew, his rational mind told him it wouldn’t be that bad. He had been unconscious for a lengthy period of time around them already. 

Zeph hadn’t held him at gunpoint.

Milo hadn’t lacerated him.

It wouldn’t be that bad.

The headache slowly receded as his eyelids started to droop, almost dragging the rest of his body with them.

By the time Milo had finished wrapping the bandages around his chest, he could barely stand upright by himself.

Sleep overrode any coherent thought process, and any will to fight against the cream’s effect.

Two hands guided his body to a lying position.

Closer to him, Zeph spoke up. “He looked pretty confused.”

Had he?

It _had_ been pretty confusing.

“Oh, Milo?”

Milo let out a short hum in reply, as his fingers delicately left the back of Thaska’s head.

“I burned my hand.”

And before he was fully embraced by sleep, Thaska heard a deep, muffled sigh above him.

* * *

When he awoke, it was with the usual grogginess caused by the healing cream. The sedative was always hard to wake up from. It felt like he had to force himself through layers of fatigue to even emerge, while his brain was still slowed down.

The dawn was hitting the camp with its soft ray, and everything felt as if the moment would last forever. The fire still had smoke rising from its ashes. Close to it, he could see Zeph curled up in his wings, body entirely hidden, aside from his crest peeking out of the ball of feathers.

Milo was nowhere to be seen.

Thaska carefully sat up. He still felt sore, but it wasn’t painful like the previous day. His headache was long gone as well. 

He took his time buttoning up his uniform before he looked around, trying to figure out where Milo had gone.

It was a case quickly solved as he heard noises coming from the wreck a few seconds later.

He slowly stood up on legs wobbly by their lack of use in the past few days, and made his way towards the Reign’s destroyed escape pod.

Now that it was clear outside, he could see the full length of the trail behind it. Or, well, most of it. It stretched for a long distance. It had taken a while before the ship had actually stopped.

Somehow, he was glad he had already been unconscious when it happened. 

The noises got louder as he approached.

The entrance to the pod was heavily dented, and one of its sides had been forcefully opened.

He peeked in.

Surely enough, Milo was inside. He could see his lower half coming out from under the ravaged cockpit, legs kicking up a bit. He heard him huff once through his mask, and then his hips raised from the ground. He heard something being torn off, and Milo’s form fell back loudly onto the ground.

The alien dragged himself out from the cockpit only using his feet.

Once his whole body was in plain view, the mask turned towards him, and Milo stopped dead in his tracks. His fingers tensed slightly around a spherical item with various torn cables poking out of it that he had undoubtedly scrapped from the ship.

Surprisingly, he wasn’t wearing his poncho. He just had a spacesuit clinging to his scrawny body, and poor excuses of pants and boots on his legs.

Even with a more refined shape no longer made wider by the poncho, Thaska still had no idea what race Milo could be.

He was a humanoïd, that was for sure, just like he and Zeph were. But there were no defining traits or appendages like he or Zeph had.

Milo stood up and put the scrap he had taken in a messenger bag that was hanging on an unexpectedly intact chair, next to his poncho. He passed the bag around his shoulders and put the green cloth on top right after, hiding everything down to his knees.

He walked straight toward him and stepped off the ship.

Thaska would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little bit intimidated by the shorter alien.

The alien pointed at Thaska’s chest, the mask tilted up towards him.

He could only stare for a few seconds, before he understood the meaning of the gestures. The wounds.

Probably.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.” He said, hoping it actually was Milo had tried to communicate.

A short-lived silence passed between the two of them before Milo nodded his head, and side-stepped Thaska, heading towards the middle of the camp.

Thaska let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and felt himself relax as he followed the humanoid.

Milo crouched beside Zeph and placed a hand on top of the bright feathers. The avian stiffened lightly and his wings lazily uncurled as he stretched wide. The wingspan was much larger than he remembered it to be the previous day.

Zeph rubbed at his eyes with a sleepy hum and started passing a distracted hand through his feathers. 

One of them was poking out awkwardly from the back of his wing, and it made Thaska want to pull it out. It was almost like an itchy desire, but he resisted against it. He knew better than to suddenly get in someone’s personal space and grab at things.

Milo had gone back to the rest of the camp. He kicked some dirt onto the fire to keep the smoke from rising and wrapped the haphazardly washed plates in a ragged piece of cloth.

“What are we doing?” Zeph sluggishly asked, passing his fingers through his second wing.

“Moving.” Milo replied while rolling the cot Thaska slept on. “There’s a city nearby.”

Zeph stopped straightening his feathers, only to puff them up for a while, making him look much bigger than he was. They went back down pretty quickly, and he flicked one of his wings while yawning widely. The feather that had been poking out was nowhere to be seen.

He stepped off his cot, and rolled it.

Thaska didn’t really know where to put himself or how to help. They looked like they were going through a routine.

“Are you sure?” The avian said, eyes drifting to Thaska. “Cause… you know.” 

Thaska looked at his feet.

He didn’t have to make a complete sentence. The three of them knew that having a highly graded member of the Reign walking with them was bad news. It made everything much more dangerous if they went to a city. Especially now that the attack had been launched.

Rebel planets helped each other out and there probably wouldn’t be any kind of mercy for Reign soldiers.

He somehow doubted that people would believe him, if he said he had been a spy all along.

“This is a neutral planet.” Milo replied without emotions, shoving the plates and cot in a backpack he hadn’t noticed the day before. Similarly, Zeph was putting his cot in a messenger bag, before sliding it over a wing and his head, so it would rest on his shoulder.

In five minutes, the camp was clear of any trace of passage, except for the fire’s ashes that could be mistaken for one of the burnt and charred pieces that had come from the wreck. Nothing could tell that two aliens and a General legitimately accused of high treason had been camping there.

Milo put the backpack on under the poncho, and took out a map. The hologram screen was slightly staticy and glitching in and out of the device.

Both the humanoid and avian turned to him.

Out of habit, he kept his hands at his sides, forcing any telltale trace of nervousness to fade away from his posture.

“You’re coming or…?” said the avian, with a light tone.

It felt almost out of place. They probably were burdening themselves with him but both kept looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

… At least Zeph looked at him expectantly. Milo seemed to be staring, but it’s all he could make out. The body language was impossible to read, and the way his shoulder area was deformed by the backpack under the poncho didn’t help.

He opened his mouth before he could find the strength to speak.

“Why did you save me?” He asked, instead of replying.

The silence that followed was suffocating. 

“Well…” Zeph’s voice trailed out, giving a glance at Milo, but the humanoid didn’t answer anything.

The avian looked at him, and gave him a grin. “Why did you save us?”

Thaska blew a bit of air out of his nose in amusement.

Touché.

* * *

They had been walking for hours in the forest and he was feeling more tired than he ever had been for this kind of effort.

The healing cream sure had done its job, but it didn’t spare him from the tiredness it left.

Thaska adjusted Milo’s backpack around his shoulders once again with a huff. The small victory he had felt when he finally got to carry it after being told no now felt like a burden. 

He had thought Zeph was exaggerating when he said that ‘Milo could walk for hours without a break, with a lot of weight on his back and without a word’, precising that it was ‘super scary’ with a lower voice as he leaned towards Thaska as if it was a secret. 

Zeph had _not_ been exaggerating, and he was right. It was super scary.

The avian was lagging beside him, and the both of them were panting hard, trying to keep up with Milo’s speed as he effortlessly trekked through the forest. The humanoid hopped over a root with ease, as if they hadn’t been walking non stop for the past couple hours.

Both Thaska and Zeph shared a tired glance after seeing that. The avian gave him a tired smile before calling him between two pants. “Hey uh… Thaska?”

“...Yes?” He replied, trying to focus on not slipping on roots, and trying _not_ to focus on the every small rock he swore he could feel pressing into the sole of his feet.

“Look!” The other said, and he glanced back at him. Zeph was waving the hand he had burnt the previous day. It was bandaged in white. “... We match!”

A warm feeling spread through Thaska’s cheeks and chest, and he immediately looked back at Milo, who still showed no signs of stopping.

He saw Zeph’s crest slightly lower in disappointment, but before the avian let down the hand he had waved, Thaska made a thumbs up towards him with his own bandaged hand.

Even if it had looked sloppy and more like a show of teeth due to the quick pace and effort they were keeping up, Zeph’s smile hadn’t gone down from his face for the following minutes.

That smile had been worth it.

* * *

Finally, after an _entire day_ of hiking through a forest at an unforgiving, fast pace, Milo stopped in the middle of clearing.

While Thaska had silently grunted in relief and tried to catch his breath, Zeph had done so very loudly: he had let himself fall down on his butt, and lazily took off his messenger bag. The hoop of it remained on his wing, as both of them were splayed wide. They had been drooping more and more for the past hours.

Zeph was probably too tired to even keep them against his back.

And Thaska wouldn’t blame him. It was exactly the same for him. His tail had long since started to drag on the ground behind him.

He knew it would be a pain to wash, since there were bits and pieces of leaves and woods in it. He didn’t doubt he might find an insect in there as well. But at the moment, he was too tired to even be disgusted about it.

The humanoid turned towards them.

Because of his mask, he didn’t have the decency to look as tired as they did. The bastard even stretched his legs as if it had been a casual workout.

“I’m going to go fetch wood.” He declared, before walking off at the same speed as before. As if they hadn’t been doing that for the whole day already since they woke up.

He had heard of aliens with crazy endurance, but they were usually incredibly bulky and their legs were different.

What in the galaxy could Milo be?

As soon as the alien was out of sight, Zeph groaned loudly and fell flat on his back. He put his elbow over his eyes, still catching his breath.

Thaska sat down.

The way the muscles of his lower back and upper legs stretched and pulled felt heavenly. He found a distinct satisfaction in hearing the various cracks of his joints as they finally did something else than _walk_.

If he had to find anything positive about this hell of a day, it was that he had found an ally in Zeph. Pain really did bring people together.

“Is he always like that?” He ended up asking once his lungs didn’t feel like fire anymore.

“Yeah.” Zeph answered after a long, noisy sigh of fatigue. “He’s always walking super fast, for super long. I have no idea how he does it.”

Thaska stretched his legs in front of him so they wouldn’t be too cramped the next day. He hadn’t walked this much in a long time. Probably in ever, actually. He wasn’t used to it. Zeph though…

“Shouldn’t you be used to walking like that?” 

The avian raised his elbow and his head slightly so he could give Thaska a look. Seeing he was completely serious, he bumped back his head against the ground, arm back into place.

“Well I fly faster than I walk. Usually I can do a little bit of both, but today…”

He raised his bandaged wing, enough for Thaska to see it, and then let it slump back to its original position.

“Can’t fly.” Zeph ended his explanation.

Thaska didn’t dare ask how it got hurt. It probably was because of his rescue.

Zeph didn’t move for a while, aside from putting his feet on the ground. He could see his mouth pinch into a pout, lip curling slightly over the marking running down his chin. He let out a tired, high-pitched sigh.

“You don’t seem upset, though.” Thaska said as he curled his tail towards him so he could start picking out the leaves and dirt stuck to it. Zeph moved his elbow away from his eyes, but didn’t say anything. He looked confused. Thaska explained. “About not flying.”

The confused pout morphed in a pensive face, and he sat up with a small huff. “It’s not the first time my wings are injured. Besides…”

He spread them wide. Seeing the full wingspan from closer was impressive, if a little threatening. It made the frail alien look much more imposing, even if he was only sitting.

The wings flexed back against Zeph’s back, and the small, peppy avian finished his sentence with a bright smile. “... I can still move them just fine!”

He joined his hands together and let them rest over his crossed legs. “They’ve been hurt worse before. Without Milo, I probably wouldn’t have been able to fly ever again.”

“Really?” Thaska answered in spite of himself, genuinely curious. He kept picking out the leaves and twigs from his tail. Some of the hair was pulled at the same time as a particularly gnarly twig. He grimaced at the sensation.

“Yeah! I couldn’t use my wings for _weeks_. They were completely useless! It was really horrible.” Zeph replied with a gleeful tone that sent mixed feelings to Thaska. The avian looked at his wing over his shoulder, shifting it around to inspect it. “But here, it’s gonna be healed in what? A day or two? At least Milo said so. He was way less worried than last time, so I know it’s not that bad.”

He couldn’t visualize Milo being worried, or showing any emotion for that matter.

The alien hadn’t said anything for the whole day, aside from the occasional short explanation. And even then, that had only been during the morning before they left the camp, and a few minutes ago, when he went back to fetch wood in the forest.

That lack of communication, paired up with the mask and inability to read any emotion was really putting Thaska off.

How did someone chatty and social like Zeph end up staying with someone like Milo?

Had they known each other for a long time? Childhood friends?

Back on homebase, people often wondered how Kaeron and himself got along. Their personalities were glaringly different, yet they were joined at the hip and didn’t keep any secrets from each other.

… At least he had thought there were no secrets.

Thaska curled inward, lips in a thin line. His tail and ears pressed closer to his body, and the familiar squeeze of anxiety made him scratch at his forearm in a fruitless attempt to relax himself.

He would never forget the sensation of cartilage breaking under his fingers. And the laugh.

_The laugh._

The laugh that only ceased when-

“Hey, you okay?”

Thaska’s head snapped up towards the unknown boyish voice.

No. Not unknown. It was Zeph.

And Zeph was still sitting at the same spot as he had before, but his relaxed posture had completely vanished. The other had one hand on the ground, ready to stand up if needed, and had his full attention on him.

“Yes.” Thaska lied. The squeeze around his guts became more vicious, matching all the times his spywork was almost discovered, everytime he had had to report to homebase before…

Before…

“Are you sure? Because you kinda look constipat-”

He snapped. “Everything is _fine_.”

And the tight squeeze finally lessened as silence settled between them.

His mind caught back to the present with a few blinks, and he looked at the avian. At Zeph.

His large eyebrows were lowered, and his mouth closed tight. The previously relaxed wings were close to his back. Zeph was closing off. 

He had destroyed the easygoing atmosphere, destroyed the sensation of finally making a genuine relationship with someone without it having to do anything with the Reign or the Resistance.

The squeeze came back even stronger, and he felt the acid in his stomach rise to the back of his throat.

He managed to blurt out an apology, a pitiful excuse about the stressful past few days he hoped made sense.

He only got a nod in response.

“So...huh.” Thaska bit the inside of his lip, trying to keep Zeph from shutting him out completely. He asked the first thing that passed through his mind. “How… how long have you known Milo?”

The avian remained silent for a moment, trying to get a read on Thaska. What he saw probably satisfied him.

He started talking.

“Not that much time. A month maybe? Two? I’ve lost track.” Zeph didn’t move much, keeping his closed away position, but his wings betrayed that he had accepted the apology. Right before he thought Zeph would close the conversation like that, the avian kept going. “It took time to know him though!”

That caught Thaska’s attention. His ears perked up a little. His posture relaxed.

Zeph’s smile returned. Small, but it was a step forward and away from the mess he had done. The other fully opened his body once more.

“Unbelievable right? He barely spoke, and he was always so serious like-” He put his hands in a cone in front of his face to mimic Milo’s mask, puffed out his cheek and faked a pout. “- ‘Wing.’, ‘We must move fast.’, or ‘I’m going to fetch wood, because walking for a whole day is nothing to me’ ”

He dropped his hand back to his legs with a chuckle, and Thaska let out an amused huff.

Zeph gazed broadly towards the trees Milo had disappeared behind, seemingly unfocused, and he spoke again.

“I didn’t know what to think of him. Sometimes I still don’t. But he’s not bad, just a bit… Well he’s Milo. And he’s definitely better than…”

The alien trailed off, still gazing out. Thaska realized he wouldn’t finish his sentence after a long moment of quiet.

“Than what?” He finally asked.

“Than…” The avian vaguely waved his bandaged hand around. “... You know.”

Thaska didn’t know.

Nevertheless, he didn’t press on the subject, enjoying the now relaxed quiet moment they were sharing.

Even if it was short-lived, as Zeph let out a resigned huff and stood up to stretch. The bounce in his movements hadn’t returned yet, but he definitely was not a panting mess anymore.

“C’mon!” He said, looking in his bag before taking out some twigs and a lighter. “Let’s start a fire and the food before Milo comes back!”

He gathered some leaves that were around them as well, and flickered the lighter on. When the flames started to take, he closed the lighter… and the fire extinguished.

Zeph let out a small disgruntled _ah_ , before he tried once again.

Only for it to have the same effect.

He tried once more.

It extinguished.

Thaska approached him and spread his hand so Zeph would give him the lighter, and he crouched in front of the pile of twigs and leaves, bringing the flame close to it. 

Zeph grumbled something about a stupid forest that was fire-resistant as he picked up some more leaves that were littering the ground.

Maybe it was true that the plants here were slightly more fire-resistant than usual. He had had to leave the fire on them for a long while before it caught, and when he did, he lightly blew on the flame so it would spread faster.

He gave back the lighter to Zeph, who accepted it with a forced pout that quickly turned in a grin.

“Thanks!” The avian said, pocketing the item. “Could you get the stuff to cook out of Milo’s backpack?”

With a nod, Thaska followed the instructions as Zeph went back to his own bag, fishing some cans out of it while humming lightly.

It was the same tune he had woken up to the previous day.

He quickly found the cooking utensils. Including a pot, which made him wonder why Zeph hadn’t simply used that the day before, instead of burning himself on a busted panel from the wreck.

That question got its answer as soon as he unwrapped the plates from the rag that was protecting them. 

They were still dirty.

There was an obvious attempt at trying to clean them, probably with the rag, too.

Now that he thought about it, they didn’t encounter any river on the way… but they did have canteens filled with water.

Zeph had hastily thrown him one while they were walking before taking it back and drinking from it once Thaska had taken two big gulps.

Thaska kept rummaging in the bag, hoping to find something he could wash up the plates with and… there it was. Another canteen. It was metallic and similar to Zeph’s, except for the big bump on the side of it, as if it had been swung around too hard.

This was Milo’s bag however. Who knew if the other drank water. It didn’t seem very likely. Then again, he didn’t know if Milo even had a face under the mask.

… Was it even water in the canteen?

He lightly shook it. It was mostly filled with liquid.

He opened it and put his nose above the bottleneck. No smell.

The liquid was clear when he poured some in the plate.

Most likely water then. He emptied half the canteen washing the plates, and finally brought everything near the fire, where Zeph had just finished opening the canned food.

They put the pot over the flames and started cooking.

* * *

Zeph was wondering out loud what exactly were the components of the food they were cooking as he poked it lightly with the ladle when Milo came back.

Just like the day before, he dropped the many branches and larger pieces of wood near the fire. He then walked straight to Thaska, as Zeph started humming and putting more wood in the fire.

He knew Milo was not a threat… in theory, but he felt his tail puff up slightly anyway as the familiar feeling of fight or flight rose up, boiling on top of his stomach.

Thankfully, the other stopped a meter away from him this time.

“Bandages.” He simply explained, making a gesture of taking something off his shoulders.

Right. He had almost forgotten those.

Now that Milo wasn’t trying to forcefully undress him like before, he opened his uniform and let it slide off his arms. The humanoid approached and started undoing the bandages.

Now that he was more in control of himself, he realized how awkward the closeness was.

He focused on Milo’s tuft, hoping the time would pass faster.

There were a few green leaves scattered in the hair, and an entire twig poking out of the denser part of it. He wasn’t sure how the other hadn’t noticed it yet. But aside from that, there wasn’t much to look at. The distraction ended quickly and the embarrassment had not receded at all.

He risked a glance at the mask.

It was in pretty good condition. Impeccable even, compared to the tattered clothes he was wearing. It fit Milo’s face perfectly, and didn’t show anything that could help him identify who the alien was.

His hair was thick, and it was all he got.

Maybe it was like that to adapt to a colder environment? There were a lot of planets with cold climates in this system.

Or maybe it was more of a winter fur, like he had at times?

Milo’s hands stilled, and Thaska snapped his gaze to the forest, over the other’s head. He was roughly a head taller than the humanoid. Maybe two.

After a few seconds where he swore Milo had looked up at him, the other finally resumed bandaging him.

The cold air hit his chest and he looked down.

There were a few patches without fur, where he had been struck during the interrogation. But he couldn’t see any wounds anymore. So the fur would grow back soon, hopefully.

“Does it hurt?” Milo asked with his distorted voice, as he put his gloved hands rested around the ghosts of the wounds.

Thaska had been about to reply everything was fine right as the other probed strongly at it. His words became a breathy squeak as he grimaced in discomfort.

“It’s… It’s sore.” Thaska said after catching his breath, pushing Milo’s hands away.

It satisfied the other, as he nodded almost imperceptibly and turned around to throw the bandages in the fire, leaving Thaska to his own devices.

He could still feel the not-so-gentle probe itching at his flesh as he picked up and put on his uniform.

Zeph quickly came towards him after that, one plate full of… gelatinous canned food in his good hand. He genuinely had wondered along with the avian what could those have been made of earlier. And he wasn’t sure he would have eaten this in any other circumstances. But beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Especially when the beggars had saved him, healed him and not tortured him for information about the Reign or the Resistance yet.

He sat down with his meal, legs still trembling from the whole day of walking, and now, his chest feeling sore and itchy from being bandage-free.

At the other side of the firecamp, Milo did the same when Zeph brought him another plate.

Thaska carefully started to eat while observing the two.

Zeph was making mindless chatter as he had done with Thaska earlier. Milo didn’t answer much, and didn’t eat either. He had set the plate next to him, and then interrupted Zeph by pointing at his wing.

There was a small second of silence as Zeph blinked a few times, before he sat down, wings towards Milo, and resumed talking. The humanoid had started undoing the bandages, only letting out monosyllables when Zeph asked him something.

At least until the bandage was off and Milo asked if it still hurt. His answer was a loud “ow” from the avian, and a barely avoided slap from the wing as Zeph had reacted out of instinct.

Milo applied the last of the healing cream on the wing, risking being attacked by it a second time, and then wrapped back new bandages around it.

Both his and Zeph’s gazes crossed, and Zeph gave him a grin.

He looked back down and kept eating.

Zeph quickly joined him, sitting much closer than he had anticipated and kept on chatting, even if between Milo and him, he didn’t get a lot of answers.

He started talking about their stocks. They just had used the last of the healing cream and bandages. The rations would last them maybe two or three more days, instead of the expected five or six.

Thaska almost lost his appetite.

The supplies were probably this low because of him, even if the both of them didn’t seem to mind it.

He still wondered what had compelled them to save him.

“Do you think we’ll even have enough money to buy all of that?” Zeph ended up wondering out loud. “Cause we also need a ride to get out of this fireproof planet. And the off-planet busses are expensive.”

Milo simply nodded.

His food was still untouched and resting next to him.

Why didn’t he eat?

Did he _not_ eat? Was he from a species that didn’t require food?

But he remembered cleaning up three plates earlier, and Zeph had brought him food.

So either Milo dumped his food somewhere once Thaska had passed out, or he had eaten it at some point.

And seeing he and Zeph had travelled together for some time, he could assume Zeph would know about Milo not eating. There was no point in wasting food, especially when the avian just had said they were low on rations.

During the remainder of the evening, he tried stealing glances at Milo, without knowing how obvious he was or not. 

The humanoid didn’t touch his plate once, and kept fiddling with the scrap he had taken from the Reign’s ship that morning instead.

His food remained untouched at his sides.

Thaska washed the plates again, and set up the two sleeping cots with Zeph.

When he expressed the concern about missing one, the avian happily informed him they had been keeping guards, and would keep doing so. A neutral planet didn’t mean it was a safe one.

On the contrary, it was the kind of planet that crawled with mercenaries.

“And tonight” Zeph said while he was trying his best to fluff up a completely flat pillow. “It’s Milo’s turn to keep guard!”

Even before knowing that, Thaska had been nervous at the idea of going to sleep with two complete strangers near him. Even if Zeph had been chatting a lot, he barely knew anything about him, and most of the information he had gotten wasn’t useful to really _know_ him.

And, out of the two, he knew Zeph the most. Milo was entirely cryptic to him.

They had set themselves to sleep, and Zeph had passed out pretty fast, puffing out his feathers and curling in a similar position Thaska had found him sleeping in the same morning. Milo hadn’t moved, still fiddling with the scraps he had in the bag under his poncho.

His food was still untouched.

Thaska didn’t dare move from his position. He was too wary to move, thinking it could be interpreted as a threat, but also too wary to fall asleep right away. He couldn’t be vulnerable. It was dangerous.

Yet, as time passed, the purring fire and the day caught up to him.

While it wasn’t entirely restful, he slept.

* * *

Somehow, Thaska was glad Milo had kept guard the whole night. 

It was less for the whole guarding and protecting aspect, and more because it slowed Milo down the next day. Even if he still walked pretty fast, and Thaska’s muscles were not happy with it, the slower pace was wholeheartedly welcome.

He didn’t feel like he was a few seconds away from breaking into a jog to catch up with the alien anymore.

It also allowed Zeph to chat a little bit more with him without being interrupted by the lack of being able to walk and breathe at the same time.

This was also welcome. It made the long hours seem faster, and made walking more interesting. Even if he still wasn’t entirely trustful, Zeph’s personality made him relax. 

The avian seemed to be at ease with him as well, as he had started being much more tactile with him. He would often bump his elbow against Thaska, or put his small hands on his arm or upper hip to emphasize his point.

When they had started walking and had more energy, Zeph was trying to touch him on the upper arm, but the gesture made him raise his arm too high for it to be natural.

So, gradually, the touch had moved down to places that were within reach without effort.

“We’ll probably part ways there, too!” Zeph had said after a while of talking about their plans to reach a peaceful planet. He seemed to catch himself, almost a bit panicked. “I mean- we’ll probably try to help you first, don’t worry! Cause you don’t have much on you, aside from a dirty Reign’s uniform.”

Thaska looked down at himself.

His uniform _was_ in pretty bad shape.

Getting something else to wear was an idea that sounded nice. He hadn’t known anything but this uniform for the last few years. The only time he had gotten out of it was to switch it for another uniform when meeting up with potential allies for the Resistance.

He enjoyed the idea of new clothes.

The conversation kept going, somehow branching on Zeph rambling about how much he wished to take a shower. He was swearing that he could feel worms and other bugs electing his feathers as their new home.

He could feel them crawling, he had said.

Thaska shivered in disgust, and imagined the sensation a bit too vividly for comfort.

* * *

Eventually, after hours Thaska didn’t bother counting anymore, they stopped in another clearing. It was smaller than the last one, and the trees around them were thicker. While getting there, they had almost tripped on roots more than once. There were a few plants that were different from the one they could see near the wreck. Some of them Thaska never had seen before.

He turned to Zeph, expecting to see the avian flopping down to the ground like he had the day before. Instead he just dumped his messenger bag on the ground, and lazily stretched.

“Well!” He exclaimed after a tired sigh. “I’m on wood duty tonight. I’ll see you guys in a bit.”

Ah.

He took Milo’s glitching map, which had a new dot to indicate their current location in the forest, and started making his way out of the clearing. Before crossing the trees, he turned around and pointed at Thaska.

“Don’t let Milo approach the food!”

And just like that, Zeph disappeared behind the trees while humming a song that faded as he went deeper, leaving him behind with…

Thaska looked to his side.

Milo’s mask was staring at him dead on.

_Ah._

A long silence followed Zeph’s departure, but, thankfully, before it could last more than two entire minutes, Milo moved. He started collecting leaves from the ground, piling them up.

Thaska ended up doing the same, trying to conveniently be at the exact opposite of the other.

When the pile looked big enough, Milo started a small flame and flapped his hands in front of it so it would spread faster and catch onto the rest.

If the alien fiddled with scraps tonight too, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Waiting until Zeph’s return would even be manageable. He had sat in silence next to people that were making him nervous before.

Of course, Milo didn’t want it that way.

From his sitting position near the fire, he patted the empty ground next to him.

Thaska resisted playing with the first thing that would come under his fingers, and kept his hands at his sides, shoulders square. This wasn’t good. He exhaled the burning anxiety through his nose, and stepped towards Milo, sitting down at a spot he considered near enough.

Milo patted the ground again.

He scooted closer - barely. 

Milo stared at him, and Thaska swore he saw his shoulders sag ever so slightly. He raised his gloved hands, one pointing at the other and spoke up.

“Bandages.”

This brought him a strong sense of déjà-vu, but at least he understood why Milo had been wanting him to sit close. He brought himself closer, enough for the humanoid to reach for his arm.

This would be more than enough distance for him to take care of his hand, right?

Wrong, apparently.

This time, it was Milo that scooted closer, almost bringing their knees together. The mask hadn’t left Thaska’s form once. It looked like a giant eye staring him down.

Milo spread his hand towards him, and Thaska gave him his injured one.

The humanoid started undoing the bandages and a suffocating silence engulfed them again. The more time passed, the worst it seemed to get.

Thaska cleared his throat.

“So…” He never thought he would be the one engaging in meaningless conversation. “Which planet are you from?”

Milo stilled, head ever so subtly turning towards him, only to resume his work, shrugging as a reply.

That was certainly a change from Zeph’s constant chatter box.

It definitely made him wonder how Zeph had ended up willingly teaming up with someone like Milo. The more time he spent with them, the more he realized the both of them had nothing in common, aside from a complete disregard of Thaska’s personal space.

Even then, Zeph’s touches and closeness had been way less unnerving. It had felt a bit awkward at first, but he quickly got used to it. It matched with his exuberant personality. The avian was restless, and his emotions were like reading an open book- even for Thaska, who barely knew him, and hadn’t had the opportunity of talking with many avians before.

But Milo?

He barely knew anything, and the thing he knew raised more questions. He couldn’t know what Milo was thinking or feeling due to a lack of face and body language. He almost never spoke, and the only times he had gotten any kind of interaction with him was only when he took care of the bandages.

He couldn’t think of any alien wearing a mask like Milo had. The only times he’d seen such things were when he was trying to make contacts for the Resistance, and they had to keep their anonymity until they met.

Once both parties were sure it wasn’t a trap, they had removed those masks.

Milo never took it off.

All he could say with certainty was that Milo came from a scrawny race with thick hair on the top of his head.

The last bit of bandage slid off his fingers, and the humanoid finally broke the silence.

“Does it hurt?”

Thaska immediately braced himself for a painful poke at the sore parts. But Milo made his fingers curl one by one instead, in a much softer way than he had expected.

“I don’t feel any pain.” He replied.

Milo let go of his hand and scooted a bit further to move in front of him.

He spread his hand, palm facing Thaska.

“Do this.” He instructed curtly, before making his pinky and thumb touch.

Thaska repeated the gesture. His hand slightly trembled as he did, but he managed with ease. Milo changed the position of his hand so his ring finger and thumb would touch.

They went through a few similar gestures like so. Most of the time, his hand was trembling as soon as he started moving it. He had tried locking his muscles to prevent it, but it only had worsened the tremors.

He frowned.

He never had these kinds of problems before, and it wasn’t a novelty he enjoyed.

In the end, Milo brought his hand on the lower part of his mask, curling it in a relaxed gesture. Thaska would have copied it too, if he hadn’t realized at the last second that Milo was just thinking about something.

The humanoid looked left and right, looking towards the ground until he found something of interest and stood up to go grab it. He returned to Thaska and pushed a small rock the size of an egg in his trembling palm.

Thaska’s frown shifted to complete confusion.

“Exercise with it.” Milo explained, before starting to make gestures again.

His hand trembled even more with those exercises, and he could feel a light strain as they went on.

Before long, Zeph came back.

They had heard him before they had seen him. He was humming another song and Thaska stopped doing the exercises and left his arm on his thigh, keeping the rock in his palm when the avian had stepped into the clearing.

“I couldn’t find a lot on the ground.” He said as he approached. He wasn’t holding much wood, compared to the loads Milo had brought the day before. Granted, he had smaller arms, but even then, it still remained a low amount. He put most of the wood in the fire, and left only a few branches to the side. He spoke up again, his tone ever so light. “So we’ll probably have to go get some again later!”

He straightened himself up a bit once he was free of the wood, and threw the map at Milo, who caught it effortlessly. It was as if he hadn’t even looked at where Zeph had been throwing it.

The two aliens stared at each other, and nobody spoke up.

Milo was looking at Zeph.

Zeph was looking at Milo.

And Thaska was distantly rubbing at the rock, wondering what was happening and why Zeph’s face was suddenly so neutral and the atmosphere so tense.

It was the avian that finally broke first, sighing as he rubbed at his nape, shoulders sagging.

“Alright.” He said. “Sorry for throwing the map again. You can stop looking at me like that now.”

It made some sense to Milo, apparently, as he looked at the item and activated it.

The hologram screen appeared, still glitchy as ever, and the dots he had seen before were still in the same spot. Milo turned it off and the map disappeared under his poncho, probably in the messenger bag.

The humanoid looked back up at Zeph.

“I know” The avian pouted, cheeks puffing up a bit. “I should be more careful with it otherwise because the next time you won’t be able to catch it it’s gonna be broken for good.”

Milo nodded and turned back to Thaska, satisfied with the answer.

“Keep the rock to exercise.” He said.

Thaska put it in one of the backpack pockets under the humanoid’s watchful gaze.

The other nodded once more, and sat down some distance away. Like the previous day, he took out some electronic scraps from his bag and started fiddling with it.

Before he could start wondering what was up for Milo for the nth time since he had met him, Zeph appeared in front of him, curiosity painted all across his traits. He quickly glanced back at Milo. “You’re not removing the bandages on his face?”

Milo shrugged. “No more bandages. It will also help him keep some anonymity when we reach the city, too.”

Thaska raised his eyebrows.

That was the most he ever heard Milo speak at once.

But what he was saying was true. It was highly likely the Reign had put out a price on his head. They weren’t above that, especially when it involved keeping information from leaking out, or killing an influential figure that could possibly get in their way. 

And neutral planets were often filled to the brim with mercenaries, too. Those were the ideal contractors.

Seeing how wrecked the ship had been, the crash probably didn’t escape the Reign. It would be dangerous for him to go around with his face in plain sight.

* * *

The food had started making questionable bubbles and Zeph took it off the fire. Thaska brought the plates and crouched next to the avian. He thanked him with a grin and a pat on the shoulder from one of his wings, as both his hands were full with a plate and the ladle.

Thaska had finally managed to relax a bit. Milo going off in the forest to gather more fuel had been a great help in that, thanks to Zeph’s grandiloquent arguments on how and why he wanted to eat something edible. It could be boiled down to the fact he didn’t want to eat charcoal, therefore couldn’t be the one to go fetch inflammable things in the forest again.

He was pretty sure Zeph had been exaggerating, even if he didn’t say it out loud. Although the last time he had been told something about Milo that definitely sounded like an exaggeration, it had been everything but one. It had been _painful_.

And it technically still was, but he quickly got used to walking with sore muscles.

As they both installed themselves with their meal, he noticed his hand was barely trembling if he held the plate. He tried switching hands, taking the spoon instead, but as soon as his fingers grabbed the thinner item, the tremors went nearly haywire.

No thin items between his fingers then.

He would keep eating with the other hand. That was manageable.

He poked slightly at the food before putting it in his mouth… and almost choked on it when Zeph spoke up as if he was talking about the weather.

“You’re really uneasy about Milo.”

He managed to swallow the bite, forced himself to relax and studied Zeph.

The other was blowing on his spoon with his usual relaxed air, holding the plate up. He ate a bit then turned to Thaska when he didn’t reply to him.

He put the plate down and leaned forward a bit, hands grabbing at his ankles over his crossed legs. There was no grin on his lips, but he still looked comfortable. He didn’t seem hostile, or prone to aggressive behavior.

Still, Thaska was readying himself for any kind of attack.

“You don’t trust him, do you?” The avian asked, looking straight at him.

Thaska broke off the eye contact, and stared at his plate. He played distantly with the brownish, thick food, poking at it with his spoon.

“I don’t know.” He replied once he found back his voice.

Would he be compromising himself, if he revealed that information? Was it some advanced technique to get him to speak? Was it dangerous? Had he been lulled into a false sense of security? Would they drop the act now?

“Why?” Zeph questioned. He saw him moving from the corner of his eyes, while his hand clasping the plate started trembling as his grip tightened.

His mouth was dry. He opened it. Closed it. Inhaled to answer, but shut it again. Would answering impact what he had been hiding for so long?

What would Zeph do if he didn’t reply?

He glanced back up at the other.

The avian had brought his legs up and was hugging them, head resting on top of them as he kept looking at him. The position was definitely less relaxed, but still didn’t show any threat. If anything, he looked open for conversation, and the curiosity he was showing seemed genuine.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to answer.

“I didn’t want to save you, you know.” The avian eventually said, when he kept silent for too long. He was still sounding and looking incredibly calm. “Milo did.”

The tremors in his right hand increased as he felt cramps travel up his forearm from the way he was holding onto the plate.

He didn’t know how to take this information.

Did that mean Zeph considered him an enemy? Was he being threatened? Did that mean it _was_ some sort of messed up interrogation? The wounds across his chest itched as he remembered being tied up to that chair on the Reign’s ship. That had been mere minutes before Zeph and Milo had busted him out and he vaguely gave them directions to the escape pods.

It didn’t make sense to be interrogated by them so late though.

That would be complete nonsense according to their earlier actions, even. Why heal him completely if they wanted to extract information? Why feed him and gain his trust?

He curled up on himself, forgetting all about the conversation and meal in favour of trying to remember the way they had walked through the forest, trying to make a plan to steal the map and run for his life.

That probably wouldn’t be the best course of action, considering his uniform. He would have to get rid of it somehow. Blend in with others.

Zeph’s whole demeanor stiffened, and his traits morphed from curiosity to slight panic. He straightened immediately and shot his hands in front of himself. 

This was it, Thaska thought, he was going to be attacked.

“I don’t mean I’m regretting having saved you at all!” Zeph babbled instead, moving his hands up and down in a ‘calm down’ gesture. “It’s- It’s really nice to talk with you! And you’re fun to have around! I can finally chat about Milo’s awful walking speed and horrible, _horrible_ cooking skills without having to worry about Milo pouting about it for the next hours!”

He finished his sentence with a small, nervous laugh and made himself smaller. His wings were curled up close against his body, and his crest was also pressed against his head, lacking its usual flair.

While all the doubts that had exploded at once hadn’t instantly vanished, it assured Thaska he wouldn’t be gutted for information quite just yet.

Maybe he had just blown things out of proportion.

Maybe.

He could never be too sure.

He let out a shaky exhale, and the tremor in his hand slowly decreased.

This was fine.

He wouldn’t be in danger right now. He could still see where it was going.

“Sorry…” Zeph said in a low voice. He sounded almost ashamed. “It’s just that you looked constipated like last time and, and… Milo’s really nice, you know?”

While the first part of the sentence made him pull a face, Zeph wasn’t wrong on the second.

He _was_ uneasy around Milo. Everything about him put him off, and it was even worse when he got too close. But he never had shown him anything but some sort of concern for his well being.

It had even been all the interaction he ever had with him. Changing bandages and making sure he would be okay. And according to Zeph, he even had been the one wanting to save him from a slow and painful death.

So he could try to make an effort.

He could at least try to see Milo like Zeph did.

* * *

After another long day of walking, they finally managed to get out of the forest. The trees had made space to a gentle hill going downward that was illuminated by the purple hues of the setting sun.

At the lowest part of the hill was the city. Even at their distance, they could see how busy it was by how much light was going on everywhere. They could see many little dark specs rising up and coming down to it. Spaceships.

The objective was close.

Thaska’s legs wouldn’t have been happier. This day had been exhausting.

He had proposed himself for night shift, hoping to ride out the paranoia from the conversation with Zeph.

It gave him plenty of time to calm down, and think the past few days through, evaluate what had happened. Understand his situation.

It had been nice having some time with only himself, while the two others slept.

But as soon as the sun started filtering through the canopy and hitting their makeshift camp, Milo stood straight, startling Thaska. 

Packing up had been even faster than the previous days, and the walking pace had been quick and relentless.

The fact he hadn’t slept for the whole night had been an awful combination with walking. He was so unfocused he didn’t manage to understand everything Zeph babbled about, and, when Milo finally stopped inside the busy city, he almost bumped into him.

That’s also when he noticed how close to him Zeph was walking, wings more spread than usual, feather puffed up. As if he was trying to look more threatening. Milo also remained close, even after being bumped into.

The two of them were looking around, and the avian was giving odd looks to people.

“We’re being looked at.” Milo said bluntly, voice low, turning towards someone in the street. He followed the direction and Milo was right. A pink alien with heavy, falling cheeks was quite literally ogling at them.

Or, well… at Thaska in particular.

As soon as their gaze crossed, the alien averted their eyes and hurriedly walked away.

Subtlety wasn’t one of their forte.

Zeph hummed in agreement, chasing away his own set of aliens with a glance. “It’s because of the uniform. It’s not everyday a highly graded Reign soldier walks around in this kind of city.”

Thaska looked down as his tattered uniform. He didn’t have anything to hide it.

If he took it off, he would be walking around shirtless. He feared that it wouldn’t be discreet either, especially with his recent, barely healed and very visible wounds on his chest.

Something green was suddenly shoved in front of him, and he grabbed at the hands holding it before they could force whatever it was over his head. The person’s arms immediately went slacker, and Thaska saw the culprit.

Milo.

More precisely, Milo without his poncho.

“Wear it.” He said, before raising it again, tiptoeing so he would reach Thaska’s head with the poncho.

Thaska didn’t resist, keeping his arms at his sides as the baggy fabric draped over him. It fell perfectly over the uniform, barely leaving his cuffs visible. It was kind of a comfortable weight on his shoulders too. It was grounding.

Milo stepped back.

It was strange seeing him without the poncho.

“Well, that solves our problem!” Zeph exclaimed with a snort, looking too relaxed for the setting, even if his wings were still puffed up. “Where to next? We need to restock the supplies and get off the planet.”

Milo’s weight shifted to one leg, as he brought his hand to the lower part of his mask in thoughts. It was much easier to read his body language without the piece of clothing.

After a few seconds, he patted his messenger bag. “I have a few scraps to sell.”

“That’ll get us a ride for three off the planet, right?” Zeph wondered out loud, to which Milo shrugged and made a gesture for them to follow.

* * *

In the end, it had barely been enough to buy rations worse than the ones they had, but that would last them at least two more days, half a container of healing cream and a ride off the planet.

It had been the Reign’s escape pod’s core that Milo had scrapped and improved by tweaking it that had been able to pay off most of their fees.

While Zeph was almost crying in joy at how comfortable the seats in the bus were compared to all those days in the forest, and Milo also visibly relaxing in one of them, Thaska made his decision.

While he wasn’t putting a complete and utmost trust in them, he would help these two. At least long enough he would have helped fill their stock back. Long enough he would feel less indebted to them.

He had skills that could be useful for eventual contracts or… whatever they did to make a living.

It was the least he could do.

The fact he started to enjoy their company was a definite plus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> This was supposed to be for the one-shot prompt challenge, but I really blew it out of proportions so you got a lot of words! The prompt was "First Encounter", aka "Thaska gets confused about everyone and everything."


	5. Hung by the Wrists + Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Milo finds himself in a displeasing predicament that will require Zeph and Thaska's help if he wishes to get out of it.

Milo regretted the wheezy whimper that escaped his mouth when his legs gave out under him, wrists and shoulders absorbing most of his weight.

He had wasted the precious air he barely had managed to breathe in, and his lungs were already starting to squeeze and burn for oxygen. It had been the last decent breath he could have taken, and he had wasted it like an idiot.

The stretch on his arms was unbearable and whatever position he moved his head in felt like it was worsening the problem. He couldn’t breathe. Or well, barely.

He didn’t know how long he had been there either. Time blurred together, and he had nothing to indicate how much time had passed.

All he knew was that he had stopped feeling anything in his fingers since what felt like forever, and that it had only been the beginning. Everything had worsened after that. His shoulders were stretched too far, too high for him to breathe correctly.

He had tried to breathe in more easily by tip-toeing but it was only a matter of minutes before his legs trembled and burnt, forcing him back to leave most of his weight on his wrists and shoulders.

But he kept putting himself on his toes, when the lack of oxygen made everything but pain blur together.

This time had probably been the last.

His legs were uselessly scraping against the ground now, still trembling with the effort. He probably would have breathed in through gritted teeth for how burning the pain was, if wasn’t already panting for any kind of air.

How long had it been?

He pulled his head back to a straighter position. It had slumped downward without him really noticing, until it got much harder to breathe.

Milo had long stopped telling himself Zeph and Thaska would come save him. The more he had thought about it, the more he felt a desperate impatience rising like bile in his stomach. He wanted to scream.

He wanted to struggle against the handcuffs that kept him restrained to that dirty wall. Push himself off of it. Be free of them.

He wanted to breathe.

He knew being agitated would only worsen his situation. It always had.

The best philosophy was to wait for a slip in security, for the enemy to show a weak point and then act on it. That’s what had always worked. That’s how he had always survived.

He hadn’t found any weak points in his cuffs.

The aliens had told him they would be back soon. He had hoped for some kind of release then, and a possible route of escape if Zeph and Thaska hadn’t come around yet.

However, Milo’s and the alien’s definitions of soon were very different.

He didn’t know how long exactly, but he was sure he had been left by himself in the cell for more than a few hours. Enough to start feeling the telltale signs of fatigue on top of the strain the position put him in. It was a miracle his shoulders weren’t dislocated at all.

He tried shifting his feet to a position that would allow him to tiptoe again. Aside from cramping from his toes to the inside of his thighs, they didn’t move. The pain was scorching and didn’t recede even when he relaxed his body again.

The handcuffs rattled weakly against the walls, and short, wheezy metallic breath could be heard coming from his fruitless attempts at breathing. His trembling legs slowly rocked the rest of his body, making the pain on his shoulder more unbearable than ever.

Milo wouldn’t escape. Not this time.

He wouldn’t be able to come up with a clever plan to get himself out of this mess.

Dark spots danced around the edge of his vision and his raspy, shallow breaths became slightly louder in the quiet room.

It couldn’t be the end of the line, right?

He had spent so much time surviving, making unexpected escapes. He defied fate so many times. He wouldn’t die like this, right?

He wouldn’t end up a corpse hanging pitifully from a wall, with the door right in front of him. It was so close. Just a few meters away. He had taken notes on the ship when they dragged him there. He remembered its general layout.

It would be so easy to escape.

A piece of cake.

Everything was a piece of cake compared to Curiosity HQ.

He couldn’t die here.

He couldn’t.

* * *

His gasps for air kept filling the room, but it had started sounding distant even to himself. Numbness was creeping in his body, making him drowsy to everything but the tightness right down his throat that prevented him from breathing.

And it was only getting tighter.

And tighter.

And tigh-

“Milo!!”

The voice jolted him slightly awake- no, conscious. Everything came back crashing at once as he felt a rush of adrenaline. The strain, the pain, the burn in his legs and the lack of feeling in his arms.

Had he… had he hallucinated someone calling his name?

He waited, on guard and fixated on the rectangle of light the door was emitting.

The sound of his wheezes and his beating heart felt louder than ever. He was scared they would be louder than whoever had screamed his name in the corridor. He wanted to know he wasn’t hallucinating.

“Milo, where are you??”

Zeph. It was Zeph.

And he could hear two pairs of footsteps in the corridor. They had come for him. They had found him. They were here.

He opened his mouth to call back to them, let them know in which cell he was held… but could only produce a weak, breathy groan that he barely heard himself.

“Milo?” 

Thaska. 

They were close, he could hear them. He was right there. He could hear their footsteps shuffling closer. They were right behind the door. They called out to him once again, and he tried replying. His groan was even quieter than the last.

The footsteps passed by his door. Going down further the hallway.

_No!_

They couldn’t go away! He was right here! He was _right here!_

He shuffled back to the tip of his toes, using the shackles to pull himself up. He had to breathe. He had to breathe to call back out to them. They couldn’t know they had passed by him in the corridor. He had to tell them he was here.

Before he could form any kind of words on his lips, his legs gave out and he collapsed back in his previous position. He heard two simultaneous pops, and his body shifting slightly more downard than it previously had. The dark spots that were crowding at the edge of his vision turned to seething, white and soundless agony as both his shoulders felt wrong, off and blinded any kind of rational thinking he may have had a second before.

* * *

“Little help? These guys are super heavy!”

Thaska picked up the alien that was crumbling asleep on top of Zeph, and laid him down on the ground behind the control panel, where four other people had been darted with minimal altercations. He gave a quick look to the cameras and saw nobody was in the vicinity.

Good.

“How much time do we have?” Zeph peeped in, looking at the cameras as well, scrutinizing the screens for any kind of guard that could have patrolled in the corridors. There were a few, but not many. If they did meet up, they would just have to be faster to take them out.

They still had a few sleeping darts left. Hopefully enough to escape from this place with their friend.

“An hour at most, according to Milo. But the darts haven’t been tested much before.” Thaska said as they hurriedly walked down the corridor that was guarded by the two aliens and three guards they had just knocked out. For him, it was the equivalent of taking big steps, but Zeph had to jog alongside him.

An hour should have been more than enough. The base wasn’t that big. The biggest issue would be finding Milo, since the place was mostly made out of cells. They checked through the peepholes of most doors they found. They found diverse races of aliens, but none that looked like a shapeless humanoïd with a circle for a face.

They passed another door after a crossroad and found themselves at the beginning of a much longer corridor, with a lot more cells to check on, Zeph decided to speed up things by directly calling for his friend.

“Milo! Where ar-hmpf!” A firm hand that took half his face clasped itself on his mouth and he was dragged in a hollow part of the corridor that laid right beside the door. He was pushed into some kind of cleaning robot.

Thaska’s hand was still firmly against his face as he scooted closer to Zeph. His tail curled in around the two of them and he quickly whispered to him : “ _Tuck your wings close._ ”

The avian immediately did so, right at the same time the door at the other end of the corridor audibly slid open.

Two guards’ mindless chatter filled up the silence of the hallway, and kept on becoming louder and louder as they approached the both of them, reaching the end of the corridor. He felt Thaska shift closer to him, one of his arms brushing down his wings as he tried to cover them more. Zeph tried keeping them as close as he could. Bright red was not a very discreet color for these kinds of missions.

The two guards passed right behind them, talking about another alien named Sabeth that would get a surprise party for his birthday from the two of them. One of the two aliens mentioned having to be there early as the door beeped and slid open. 

The swoosh of the door let them know it had closed behind them, and they waited until their footsteps grew quieter before Zeph shook his face out of Thaska’s hand.

“You really have to stop grabbing people by the mouth and dragging them places.” He quipped, half-pouting at him. 

He let his wings relax and spread his feathers to ensure himself they would be back in a proper place once Thaska stepped back, his long tail swishing back and forth behind him.

Thaska only grumbled some indistinct sputters at him before they got back to work, checking all the peepholes on the way. Most of the cells were empty here, and when they found no Milo. They kept going through the long corridors.

After four unsuccessful hallways, they found some stairs leading down in a basement. A small board helpfully provided information about where it led. The high security cells.

That was most likely where they would have put Milo, considering the reasons that led him to be there in the first place. Sparing a glance at each other, they quickly went downstairs and were glad that the electronic pass they had stolen was valid for this part of the base.

What they were less glad for, however, was finding the same long corridors as there were in the regular cells, except this one ended with a dead-end. And also two guards were staring at them directly at their left.

Before the one closest to a panel of buttons could jump out of his seat to press on the big red one with ‘ALERT’ written on it, Zeph raised the hand that was holding the gun with the darts in it and shot him. The poor guy immediately crashed on the ground, and Thaska swiftly took care of the other.

They placed their bodies back on the chairs, Zeph struggling with the six arms of the alien he had darted and looked at the cells.

No peepholes on any of the doors. How were they supposed to check if Milo was in any of those? Thaska turned to check around the guard’s table, moving the mechanical protrusion of the one he had just put back on the chair out of the way. The documents were of the latest arrivals, but nothing to know which one of them was Milo, nor in which cell he was held.

A bit ahead of him, Zeph had already grabbed the key and started fumbling with them to open the cells. The first door that opened granted him someone twice his size in height and twice Thaska’s width in muscles bursting through the door, launching himself at the avian with a grunt of rage.

They threw the both of them on the ground, and if the noise from the door hadn’t been enough, Zeph’s panicked squeak would have alerted Thaska anytime.

He immediately whipped out the dart gun and put the alien to sleep with two darts when the first one didn’t seem to suffice. With a bit of effort, they managed to wiggle Zeph out from under that mammoth of an alien and when they stumbled away, Thaska spoke up in a hushed voice.

“Ok. No opening doors. We have to find something else.” 

Zeph shakily nodded at that before he purposefully let out a long breath out to recompose himself. He glanced around the room, at the heavily closed door and at the three aliens fast asleep thanks to Milo’s darts.

Nobody would… hear them, right? The door had been much thicker than the others, and if they had to keep beasts like this one in these kinds of cells, they better have been resistant… right? 

Right.

He inhaled and screamed through the hallway.

“Milo!!” He tried adding something to his shout, but Thaska’s hands clasped on his mouth again. His four ears were pulled back against his head and he gave glances around.

“ _What are you doing!?_ ” He whisper-scolded him, clearly in some kind of panic. His eyes were darting between the beast on the ground and the two guards. The three of them still remained fast asleep, even after Zeph’s quite loud shout.

That relaxed Thaska a bit, enough to get his hands off Zeph’s mouth. The avian kept the commentary about grabbing people’s face to himself for once, and decided to answer him.

“Well it’s the next smartest thing to do, right?” He replied in the same hushed tone.

Thaska pulled a face but ended up agreeing to him. When the avian inhaled again, he cringed even before the words came out of his mouth. Zeph didn’t really care. They had to find Milo. And if there were guards that came up because of his screaming, he still had a few darts in his gun.

“Milo, where are you??” He ended up shouting as they slowly progressed through the corridors.

Seeing none of the other aliens move seemed to give Thaska some confidence and he brought a hand to his mouth as well. “Milo?”

They were in the middle of the corridor now, and as they kept calling him, they suddenly heard a rattle from two doors behind them. They backtracked together as if they were one, sticking themselves against the door. Zeph went through each keys while Thaska kept calling out for Milo, sticking his ears against the door.

He couldn’t hear anything but some sort of grizzled noise coming from the cell.

That was the closest thing that sounded like Milo they had heard in the past sixteen hours.

They were awarded with a correct beep coming from the digital key and immediately busted the door open.

Relief was far from what they felt when they realized it was the correct cell. 

Milo’s body looked _wrong_ around the shoulders. His body was trembling, feet barely touching the ground and he showed no sign of acknowledging them. The grizzled noise Thaska had heard was most definitely choked wheezes filtered through his mask while his head was thrown back in what would be an extremely painful position.

They both cried out his name, rushing to their friend, and Thaska grabbed the digital keys in Zeph’s hands, trying them out on the slip next to the handcuffs. Zeph tried to communicate with Milo, but he seemed fixated on the ceiling, and at a closer look, his shoulders definitely looked weird, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Milo didn’t answer one single question either.

In fact, his chest was moving weird, and the wheezes were getting quieter. Zeph connected the dots slower than he would have liked.

“He can’t breathe!” He exclaimed to Thaska who, in return, tried going faster with testing out the keys. His hands didn’t tremble, but there was a fumble to them. This was no good.

He tried looking around him for something to raise Milo up a bit and found nothing. He ended up crouching slightly, grabbing the humanoid’s legs and putting them on his shoulders to raise him up with his own body. He winced when the heels of the heavy boots swinged into a particularly sensitive spot of his wings but ignored it in favour of the sharp inhale he heard coming from Milo.

His exhale sounded more like a shuddering whimper mixed with coughs than an actual exhale.

He listened to Milo’s desperate gasps for air a few more times before Thaska made a noise of victory, when he found the right key.

They almost wished he hadn’t.

Both Milo’s arms fell off the cuffs like a puppet without its strings, and the top of his body jerked forward with a choked scream that they both knew would give them nightmares for the times to come.

The trembling in his legs worsened, just as his heels dug deeper in Zeph’s wings. Thaska murmured many curses under his breath as he grabbed the top of Milo’s body to lower him down on the ground.

When he did, the humanoid was in complete hyperventilation, and his arms laid motionless beside him. Both shoulders had been dislocated.

How hadn’t they noticed before?!

“Milo!” Zeph ended up saying, trying to keep him from trembling without great success. “Milo you need to breathe slower!”

If anything, the metallic gasps they heard went only faster. But at least, seeing how the mask was angling towards them, he was finally starting to notice his surroundings. After a few seconds, it was clear it didn’t help for anything.

They tried telling him he was in hyperventilation and started a preferable breathing rhythm but it didn’t have any effects, as they quickly noticed. His chest seemed to puff up with air a few seconds later than his gasps.

 _The mask_ , Thaska realized. It was preventing him from breathing properly. He churned out the possibilities ahead of him and bit his lower lip before telling Milo something he knew he would hate.

“I’m going to have to take off your mask so you can breathe.”

That, made Milo still momentarily. Before it worsened his hyperventilation. He weakly shook his head left and right.

The sight pained Thaska, and after sharing a glance with Zeph, he was reassured to see he wasn’t the only one feeling wrong about this situation. But when he looked back down to Milo, guilt held his guts in a strong fist.

He was trying to roll on the side, to hide his mask away, whimpering in pain all the way through.

He put one of his hands against the mask and Milo froze under it.

“N-no…” Was the weak answer he received and it was enough to make him grimace and look back at Zeph. He looked as conflicted as he was. Seeing how Milo’s breathing and trembling only worsened because of that, he moved his hand to the back of the humanoid’s head instead.

Fine.

He couldn’t do it.

That brought them back to their primary objective then. They would have to focus on escaping no matter the pain Milo was in at the moment.

They would have to focus back on their primary objective then, no matter the pain Milo was in at the moment. Thaska let out a snarl of frustration.

“Zeph.” The avian looked at Milo then at him. Thaska handed him his dart gun. “Take this. Help me put Milo’s arms correctly and lead the way out.”

He scooted his arms under Milo’s shoulders and knees, raising him off the floor in a bridal carry. Zeph made quick work of putting his arms crossed on top of him, in the position that looked the less painful.

Both of them cringed when those movements got the humanoid to sob weakly while he was still trying to regulate his breath.

They went out of the cell, right as the large alien that had attacked Zeph started to stirr. They backtracked immediately, closing the door slightly.

They grunted and put themselves back on their feet, looking around them before making a run for the door.

They followed suit, from a distance, and it only took a few minutes before alarms were ringing through the base, red light flashing above them. They kept running in the long corridors, oftentimes having to hide in crooks and corners, thankful for the general noise and commotion that masked Milo’s pained wheezes.

Most the guards were headed the same direction, which they guessed was where the beast was causing a commotion.

Then they arrived at the reception.

The five aliens they had darted to sleep were definitely waking up, and very much recognized who had taken them out. Zeph shot two of them before he could think more about it, and they fell right back on the ground. The three others, however, immediately drew their weapons out, and trained them on the trio.

Zeph raised his hands and Thaska grabbed him by the back of his shit to duck back behind the door, causing Milo’s legs to slide off slightly. The sudden gesture also made one of his arms fall to the side, which they ignored when one of the blaster’s lasers passed way too close for comfort.

The avian made sure to spread his wings far behind him so they wouldn’t get in the way of being shot, and passed his head by the door to quickly shoot at the closest guard who fell down.

A laser passed next to his head, and he felt the heat of it tickle his throat.

He instantly pulled back behind the wall, feathers bristling at the same time as a cold shudder passed from the tip of his crest to the end of his wings.

That had been close.

He barely had touched the guy too, he was very lucky it got him in the arm.

He wouldn’t make a shot like this again. Not without facing a laser between his eyes. He turned to Thaska. “What should we do?”

The alien seemed as lost as he was. His eyes were darting around and he was panting from running around and carrying Milo. He lightly shook his head, mouth in a thin, anxious line and eyebrows drawn together.

He didn’t know.

Milo grunted slightly, breath still too quick for comfort, and pushed his head slightly against Thaska’s arm to get his attention.

“...The panel.” They gazed around them, quickly finding the closest holographic panel. They lit it up and asked for a code.

A single look at Milo and he managed to rasp out the code he had somehow memorized. He weakly gave them instructions and, soon enough, the alarms blared even louder. 

“What did you make us do?” Thaska asked, voice tight and restless. His grip tightened, drawing out a weep from the humanoid.

An automatic voice ringing through the base answered in Milo’s stead.

_“Major containment breach. Code Red. Prisoners have been released.”_

They heard two curses come out from the reception, that were soon mirrored by their own when they heard the men start running. They tried to huddle in one of the hollow parts of the wall. Zeph tucked Milo’s arm back on his chest to avoid crushing it further and readied the guns.

The two aliens passed in front of them, but one of them backtracked quickly, having seen Zeph’s bright feathers.

He quickly shot him, a second dart poking out from his chest, and shot the second one that was still running in the back before he could turn around as well.

They made their way back to the reception, and were relieved to see nobody was standing there anymore. They dashed outside as fast as they could, and towards the spaceship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and thanks for reading this!!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> This was once again part of the prompt challenge with "Hung by the Wrists" and "Rescue" as chosen prompts! I managed to make this one much shorter than the rest and keep it satisfying enough for myself, so I'm pretty happy about that!
> 
> Let me know what you liked about this chapter if you feel like it!


	6. Charmed

It was later on, when they were sitting around the fire camp that Zeph distantly caught the sound. It was coming from afar, and really, it kind of sounded like the tree leaves shaking and singing. He absolutely paid it no mind, and found himself humming along, watching the flames as they cooked the miserable little fruits they had found after _hours_ on this planet.

The fire was cozy, his stomach was finally not rumbling anymore. It seemed like a perfect relaxing time from their usual shenanigans. Milo had finally stopped playing around with his devices and was just concentrating on the food. And Thaska had stopped bantering with him to enjoy the moment- and that was something.

Actually, he was feeling tired, especially from all the running around just to find itsy bitsy fruits that would barely last two days. As the hum grew louder, he found himself passing his hands in his feathers, straightening them and making sure no insects would have gotten caught into them. That was the absolute worst. Especially when they crawled up one of his wings when he was trying to sleep. Yeesh.

He kept humming, making variations with the song. It reminded him distantly of home, somehow. Where he’d sing and harmonize with others, or even just throw shades at them because he was so _obviously_ the better singer. There was a reason he was one of the best when it came to luring out small creatures.

Zeph frowned.

 _Maybe the song sounded too much like home_ , he thought, as he saw the fire’s flame getting smaller.

He stopped humming, and risked a glance at Milo and Thaska. Milo was idly playing with something, letting their dinner boil away, and Thaska was just staring towards the fire, one piece of wood in his hand. Where he would have been unable to relax his fingers or his tail, this time, he was completely unmoving, sagged.

That’s when he decided that the humming was _definitely_ not the leaves, and _definitely_ like the songs they’d sing to lure animals in back home. 

With a quick beat of his wings, he reached Thaska, and took his unusually relaxed face between his hands. The other looked up to him, and Zeph cringed at the lack of expression on his friend’s face. His normally slitted pupils were completely dilated. He was definitely under the charm of _something_. Thaska would never have looked at him without at least one little peck of annoyance somewhere in these eyes.

He swatted the taller alien slightly. It didn’t do much. He had to bring out the big guns then.

He let go of Thaska’s head.

And punched him hard.

Bone was surprisingly sturdier than he had expected, but his friend’s head snapped to the side nonetheless. 

He didn’t really have the time to mull over the way his knuckles were hurting that a low growl came out of Thaska, and soon enough, he was caught by the front of his clothes, and pulled _up_.

Up to a now standing Thaska’s face, that was looking very very _very_ pissed, and that was holding him a good meter above ground with one hand. 

“What the fuck was that for?”

Phew, he was back to normal. 

Zeph kind of shrugged, more relaxed than he should have been in this position while he smiled lazily. “I dunno, dude, I’ve dreamt of punching you in the face ever since I met you.”

The hand holding him tightened for an instant, before it opened, letting him go while Thaska sat back down.

He flapped slightly his wings to break the fall.

“You could have put me down gently on the ground, you know! I could have seriously hurt myself!”

“Well, you didn’t.”

“At least your eyes are back to normal.” Zeph pouted, before finally explaining. “You were under a charm.”

Thaska sent him a questioning glance.

“Yeah, you were like...” He made some grimace, passing his hand in front of his face as if it would explain it all. “...staring at the fire.” 

“Milo might be charmed as well-” He gestured toward the third friend, hoping to show the perfect example of his statement. Zeph froze.

Milo wasn’t there anymore.

Something twisted his insides, preventing him from swallowing the dread that rendered him silent for once. 

* * *

Had he been anything else than a skilled flyer, he’d probably have crashed right back down next to Thaska. Thankfully, he managed to right himself right before touching grounds.

“Can’t see him from above. The canopy’s too dense.”

Thaska clicked his tongue and kept walking forward at a speed Zeph could barely catch up with.

They had managed to follow tracks for now, but as they followed them back in the forest, it became harder to discern any kind of footsteps.

It didn’t help that they were going towards the humming.

While Zeph was not affected by the songs, he wasn’t so sure about Thaska. He didn’t seem to be affected right now, but he didn’t want to have to screech into his ears. Or punch him again, but Thaska’s reflexes were to be feared and he was pretty sure he’d be punched right back this time.

“Why didn’t you snap _him_ out of it first?” Thaska growled.

He ignored the pointed guilt that spiked through his guts and immediately came back with a retort. “Oh well, I’m sorry, he was idling like usual, while _you_ , may I remind you, were staring at the fire with your eyes dilated like that time you smelled that funky grass on Ilrion.”

He avoided a swipe by taking off again. He’d look around faster that way anyway. How was he supposed to know Thaska’s species was more resistant to charming?

The next few minutes passed in relative silence, only punctuated by the occasional “found something?” and “no” conversation. 

Zeph flew slightly ahead. He wasn’t used to these kinds of woods. The ones at home were much higher, and full of light, even at night. These ones felt cramping, he was almost claustrophobic flying through them.

But, eventually, it had helped.

He had caught it from the corner of his eyes. A familiar green light that blinded him slightly on the right.

“Thaska! I found something!” 

He glided toward the item, his friend following him promptly. He landed at the base of a tree, and his usually jovial traits turned into a deep frown. 

Milo had definitely passed somewhere around here alright.

That was his mask right there on the ground.

* * *

He held Milo’s mask close as he kept the pace with Thaska, not wanting to stay away from him.

Looking for Milo-without-his-trademark-mask was hard. There was still his clothes for sure, but usually, his trademark was the mask. You couldn’t have one without the other… and it was one of the few only things that made him stand out.

They quickly came to the conclusion that they had to follow the humming… which definitely had turned into singing. They were soft voices that were singing songs without lyrics. Or at least none he could understand. But the closer they got, the more he had to watch over Thaska.

He had seen his posture go lax from times to times again. He usually shook himself out of it but they were going closer to the voices. And he knew it would be getting harder. 

They heard a faint cough from a bit further ahead.

They turned to each other for a split second before rushing ahead.

Surely enough, there was Milo, walking feebly toward the singing. His hood was halfway down, and his white hair was almost completely visible.

They started running toward their friend, his name on the edge of their lip, when something akin to an ear-breaking _screech_ resounded in their ears, stopping them dead in their tracks. 

_“IT IS OURS!”_

_“OURS!”_

_“YOU WILL NOT HAVE IT”_

The voice ushered loudly, and Zeph saw Thaska drop to his knees, hands trying to grasp his four ears at once. The noise was horrible. It mixed with the entrancing songs, scraping at the very bottom of his eardrums like sandpaper. He could feel the charm trying to work its way to his mind. And for a second, he wanted nothing more than to give in. To stop that piercing on each side of his head.

_“It has been such a long time.”_

_“Such a long time since we got one.”_

_“It will be so delicious!”_

_“Delicious!”_

Another cough was heard ahead, more pained. 

Zeph looked up from the pain. Thaska was down, hands palms up against the ground, face between his knees, unmoving. And Milo…

Milo was still walking forward. He could start to make out other forms around him. Getting closer to him. Pulling his hood down. Passing a hand in his white hair. 

The forms got more and more defined. They were definitely the ones singing. Androgynous beings. All of them had huge pointy teeth.

And all of those were dangerously close to Milo. The voices got louder in his ears. He could feel his eyes rolling in his orbits. Resisting took all he had. His stomach felt tight. It was unbearable.

He had to save Milo. 

Milo was going to be eaten.

Zeph screamed.

He screamed right back at the voice. He _screeched_ right back.

They ceased around him.

He grasped Milo’s mask and gave mad chase after his figures, propelling himself faster with uncoordinated flaps. 

He pushed the closest teeth away from his friend, kicking right through it as he latched onto the upper back of Milo, who stumbled forward. He felt the other take in a sudden gasp, just as all the voices and songs stopped in various types of “ _no_ ”. 

Milo fell to one knee as he started having a coughing fit. All of them sounded raw and hurtful. Milo’s hands started flailing around, between hiding his face and tapping around himself. 

The mask.

 _Shit_! He had dropped the mask when they had started screeching at them. It was still next to Thaska.

Milo kept coughing, toppling over, setting on grasping at his hood, pulling it back over his head.

Another one of those teethy androgynous beings got too close to them. Zeph whipped out his sniper gun, and made a wide swing at them, trying to keep them at bay.

They shrieked at him, creating that awful feeling on his eardrums, but he shrieked right back. And they stayed away. Not for long. But long enough.

“Thaska!” He ended up yelling. “If you want to return to consciousness, now’s the time!”

He risked a glance toward Thaska.

One of these bastards was hovering close to him. 

He immediately took aim and shot, hitting the thing right in the chest. The sound of the gunshot seemed to twitch Thaska awake. 

He felt hands grab at his wings. The voices came back, louder, numerous.

_“OURS!”_

_“IT IS OUR_ **_FOOD_ ** _!”_

He was thrown to the side, right as Milo’s cough worsened. He heard a squishy sound and a deep gasp. Were coughs even supposed to sound wet?

He took aim again, shooting away all those who dared approach Milo too close. Two of them lunged at him.

Zeph tried to avoid them, spreading his wings to take off, but they quickly grabbed him by the feathers and pinned him to the ground. They kept screeching at him. One of them hovered close to his face. Its mouth was gigantic, his face looked emaciated and bony, and its eyes were completely white, void of anything.

One set of teeth sunk into his shoulder. He screamed raw, trying to punch or kick them off. Uselessly.

They were still chanting, circling Milo, getting too close to him again, Milo getting too relaxed again. 

The jaw on his shoulder suddenly went lax, and a shadow passed over him, straight towards Milo.

Thaska cut through the _things_ with ease, and slapped Milo’s mask on his face from behind, not even checking if he did it right, and he started to drag him back towards Zeph. 

The two beings off of him, Zeph understood immediately, and took flight again, aiming and shooting at whichever was getting too close to his friends as they all retreated.

He burnt his fingers on his overheated gun more than once, especially when Thaska would suddenly stop for a few seconds, head dropping down as the songs kept trying to lure him in. He didn’t care about a few burns, he had to keep them safe.

He would keep them safe.

The number of entities following them started to diminish as they got in the lighter parts of the woods, and was next to none when they finally reached their ship.

It didn’t prevent them from just getting in it, and locking the door shut behind them. It’s with a deeply bleeding shoulder and extremely shaky hands that he slid in the pilot’s seat, and activated everything. He wouldn’t feel safe until they were out of this goddamn planet’s atmosphere.

Behind him, he heard Thaska and Milo fall down. If the clatter was anything worth telling, Milo’s mask wasn’t affixed to his face yet. Thaska’s imposing figure loomed behind him for a few seconds before he sat down at his chair, helping out with getting out of the atmosphere.

They heard Milo cough some more behind them. It sounded wrong. Milo’s voice was always muffled through his mask. This sounded too real. Too present. They didn’t like it.

Their friend kept coughing, but he got conscious enough to put back his mask on. 

Once it muffled his coughs back to a normal-Milo voice, and once they got out of the atmosphere, Zeph felt the cramps down his wings appease ever so slightly.

His shoulder hurt like a bitch though.

* * *

“You know with all this, I’m just kind of disappointed we didn’t get to see Milo’s face is all.”

The fingers bandaging his shoulder jabbed him slightly on the teeth wounds. Zeph let out a whine. “Come on! Don’t tell me you weren’t curious too! He never showed us his face!”

“And there’s probably a reason.” Came Thaska’s flat reply.

“Bargh, you’re no fun.”

Thaska kept bandaging him as he looked over Milo’s unmoving form. Once they had exited the atmosphere, they had gone back to the back of the small spaceship - a piece of floating trash, in Zeph’s humble opinion, but something to call home nonetheless - and checked over Milo. He didn’t seem to have any bite marks around. The only thing worrying was his coughing, which was still present, even as he laid on his bed. 

His mask was back on his face, as if it had never left.

They couldn’t even tell if he was sleeping or not. But that was Milo. You never really knew with him. 

“Hey what if we took off his mask while he’s sleep- _ow!_ ”

Thaska finalized his bandage with a bit too much force- and that was probably on purpose too. 

Zeph turned to him, pouting. “You’re a party pooper, you know that?”

Thaska grunted an “I know” before standing up and cleaning up the first aid kit.

Milo started to twitch. It took barely a few seconds before they heard a gasp. He tensed all over, suddenly shooting up from his laying down position. He looked over the two of them - or well, Zeph supposed he looked over them, he couldn’t really tell with the _mask_. 

Before they could ask how he felt, Milo started coughing again, harder than before. Wetter than before. 

He doubled over, and kept coughing, hands over his chest. 

“Ox-... Oxygen...t-...t-ank” He eventually managed to gasp out.

Thaska immediately brought it to him, and Milo made swift work of plugging it to the front of his mask, taking deep breaths in.

The first ones were interrupted with coughs, but it started to calm down in frequencies.

Milo’s head turned toward Zeph. He was still gulping down oxygen. 

“Thaska… bandaged you up?”

Zeph nodded, standing up on his seat, and showing off his shoulder. “Yeah look at that! I honestly prefer when you bandage me up. He’s so rough I swear. Like I’m sure he jabbed me on purpose so I’d get scars! I mean look at that work, I’m sure it’s terrible, too!”

A flustered scoff came from behind him. “It’s not that bad! It does the job.”

Milo emitted two coughs that sounded awfully like a poorly disguised laugh.

“More seriously though! What even was that down there?! Milo, whatever your species is, it’s awfully stupid when it comes to being charmed! How did they even survive in space, so many of us use songs to lure preys in, like I can’t belie-”

“Why were you coughing so much?” Thaska interrupted.

Milo shrugged, inhaling three times more, before unplugging the tank from his mask. “The air was toxic to me. Couldn’t last very long without…”

He put his hand on the edge of his mask, falling silent for a moment. “You guys… didn’t see my face, did you?”

As Thaska shook his head, Zeph pointed at his hurt shoulder. “I honestly would have _loved to_ but you know. I was busy being eaten faster than you.”

Milo was silent for an instant.

“... What even happened down there, exactly?”

And Zeph was more than happy to provide all the story, with all the details. Especially the ones that made him sound heroic. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I would love to know what you thought about it and my characters. 
> 
> This chapter is part of a challenge we do with [ lost-tanuki-tales ](https://lost-tanuki-tales.tumblr.com/) (also known as [TNKT](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TNKT/) on Ao3). They also made their OCs, and use them to complete the challenge! I could not recommend checking out [their version ](https://lost-tanuki-tales.tumblr.com/post/612320046092599296/masterlist-oneshot-prompt-challenge)of the prompts enough!
> 
> Every week or so, when we both have time, we decide on a prompt to write, usually under a short amount of time, just to enjoy the words flowing. This chapter's prompt was "Charmed". The whole idea of the prompt came from [Cosmo Sheldrake - Come Along](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bIyl9bCp6W4) which you can listen to by clicking on the link!


	7. Exhaustion/Collapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Milo's always been the caretaker, but some days it's harder than it should have to be.

Fingers nervously thrummed against the cockpit’s commands as two large shadows darkened the small, damaged cargo ship. Milo held his breath, hoping the avaat ships wouldn’t see theirs, hidden in the crevice of an asteroid. His eyes were constantly shifting between the radar that was periodically going static, and the now very, _very_ visible ships that were currently passing over them.

He hoped that their radars had been properly jammed. Or that the asteroid belt was making it nearly impossible for them to be noticed.

He wouldn’t be able to hold them off alone.

Not while Zeph and Thaska were still bleeding out.

Even when the shadows had cleared out, Milo waited until the ships were entirely out of sight before releasing his breath. He completely turned off the ship’s engine, trusting the crevice to keep them safe for now.

He still had to tend to his friends’ wounds.

He jumped to his feet, hand shooting up at the pain in his side. He had to tend his friends’ wounds… and his own. Even if his spacesuit had done a lot of damage control, he still had been shot.

He wiped his bloody hand on his chest as he got to his friends’ side. When he had dragged them back to the ship’s common room, they were still conscious, mostly. At least he assumed so, from the way Thaska had grunted weakly and the way Zeph slurred a complaint about delicacy when he dumped them on the ground. 

He hadn’t really had the time to apply first aid then. He had to pilot the three of them out of danger first.

Right now though? Both of them were slumped against each other, clearly unconscious… and still bleeding out. Milo eyed the only healing pod they had. It was still out of commission. 

_Shit_.

Why hadn’t he repaired it yet? He knew it was a priority. He had had the time! He did! Or he could have asked some help. He would have just needed to sleep a bit less last week. He would have much less to worry about now if he had done that. He would have just needed to clean wounds and shove one of them in there.

It was no time to panic. He had to save them. He felt a familiar, analytical numbness come over him as his eyes laid on both his friends. 

Thaska had been shot in the inside of his thigh, and on his chest. The suit had absorbed the meaner aspect of the second shot, but it was still worrying how much it bled. 

Zeph’s wounds were more recent, as he got hit not long before they managed to reach the ship. One shot in the back, three shots in the wings. He could still hear the avian’s scream as he got shot.

He would have put a priority on Zeph if it wasn’t for the fact they had to drag Thaska to the ship. As they were carrying him, Milo had done a quick check up. His pupils had dilated, his breathing had quickened. He couldn’t really take his temperature on the run, but judging from the fair amount of blood that had tainted his suit, it was most likely shock settling in.

He put Thaska’s arm around his shoulders, and dragged him to the cargo ship’s table, whimpering as weight was put onto the gash in his side.

He took as little as he could to catch his breath, blinked back the tears of pain and panic that were gathering in his eyes, and opened the first aid kit. He had to thank his past self for refilling it with healing cream two days prior. 

It was time to get to work.

He’d rather die than lose Zeph or Thaska.

* * *

Thaska had been bandaged, and stabilized.

Zeph… had been a close call. The bleeding had been much harder to stop, but he eventually managed. Thankfully, the healing cream had been enough for the numerous grazes he got. He also had to make a small cast around his wingbone, just in case it had been too damaged. Better safe than sorry. 

Zeph had been stabilized for now.

That left only himself to tend to.

He still had to clean his wound. He knew he had to.

But the adrenaline had gone away. The numbness that kept him in another headspace from the events had disappeared.

He was sitting on the ground, back against the wall, opposite to the one where Thaska and Zeph had slumped. He was trembling. He was pulling at his hair, rubbing traces of blood in his white locks. But it wasn’t enough to ground him.

Not when everytime he looked up he would see his friends completely still, unmoving. 

Not when everytime he looked at them, he would think that if that’s how they died, it would be his fault. That the last thing he would have heard from them were haunting screams.

The last thing he would have _seen_ was their pain.

He knew they were stable. They were fine. _For now_.

Maybe they’d get worse soon.

Maybe his first aid hadn’t been enough.

His fingers tightened in his hair, and he tugged down on it enough to bring his head between his knees. The tears were flowing freely.

He hated that sensation. It was sticky and gross. It was stuck between his face and his mask. He felt sweaty in his suit. His side hurt and blood had dried in ugly clumps around his wound. 

He had to clean it. And close it.

He looked up, and felt the panic grip him at the throat when he saw them again. He had a hard time breathing. Fresh tears gathered at his eyes. 

He couldn’t keep crying like that. He had to clean and tend to his wound. 

Shaking more than ever, Milo forced himself to stand up and went back to the first aid kit, now nearly. It was still next to Zeph. It took him more than one try to swallow the sob that suffocated him as he approached. As soon as he got the disinfectant, a needle and the healing cream, he went back to lay against the wall, as if his presence would hurt his unconscious friends.

Cleaning the wound would be the easy part, he realized, between choked breaths. It wasn’t as fast as he would usually be, and definitely more painful when his shaking hands involuntarily jabbed the tender parts, but it was still doable.

No, the hard part would be sewing himself back.

He exhaled, trying to have some control of his hands as he took the sterilized surgical needle from its package and put it against his skin.

His hands did not stop trembling. His breath did not calm down. His tears still made looking through his mask blurry.

The needle went under his skin.

* * *

His throat was raw, but the job was done.

All that was left was a tired hand, limply holding the needle at his sides, and occasional whimpers interrupted by a shaky exhale. It was done. It was sloppy. But it was over.

Zeph and Thaska hadn’t moved an inch through it all.

He finally set aside the needle, taking the healing cream instead, and spread it on the sewn wound with two fingers. He hissed through his teeth at the sensation, and collapsed back against the wall.

He knew that the cream would take effect soon, and it would drain his energy to speed up the healing process. He knew he would probably start to drift to sleep soon. He wouldn’t fight it, but he would still try to stay alert somehow. In case his friends’ condition worsened.

He really hoped it wouldn’t.

* * *

Raspy voices roused him, and Milo took a few seconds to completely clear the thick haze caused by the healing cream. 

The voices kept talking in and out, and now that he could focus some more on it, they sounded foreign. Distinctly hissy too, as they talked in their own language. Avaats.

He counted four of them.

When had they gotten in? Why hadn’t he been woken up by the radar’s alarm? Had it even gone off? 

More so, how did they manage to get in without making noises until now? One of the avaats elbowed his friend and pointed his chin towards Milo, who didn’t dare move yet. Keeping the pretense of being asleep behind his mask.

What were they doing here?

The two avaats approached him. Right behind them, he could see the other two circling around his friends. They still hadn’t moved either.

Hands spread in front of his mask to take it off, and Milo slapped them away, springing into action and onto his feet.

He took advantage of the surprise and activated his staff, shoving it in the closest alien’s stomach. They were sent further away, bending in two from the hit.

Milo’s side burnt a little, but he knew the healing cream had done its work. The wound was still very tender, and he probably shouldn’t have been moving so much, not that he could help it. But at least it was closed, as far as he could feel.

He avoided the body slam of the second avaat by side stepping right in time. He swiftly turned around and whacked his staff in the back of their neck. The enemy made a gurgling sound, and slid from the wall to the ground.

_One down, three to g-_

He was grabbed from behind, an arm firmly keeping him in a chokehold. The others approached, exchanging fast words he couldn’t understand, but their body language was clear : they were alert and ready to fight if needed.

His staff was ripped out of his hands, and the enemy tightened his hold onto his neck.

He was soon crowded by three, and one of them reached for his mask once more.

Fear knotted in his stomach. He tried moving his head away, but the arm strangling him only tightened. 

Before he could fully panic, he saw an opening.

He kicked the reaching avaat with both feet, using the force to send them and the one holding him on to the ground. The chokehold got loose, and he managed to free himself by rolling on the side, kicking and punching blindly. 

He felt something whack him on the side where he had stitched himself up before he could process the pain.

Milo coughed and gasped one hand on the stitched wound, heels scraping on the floor as he tried to scramble backward, as far away as he could.

His staff glinted in the light before being brought down a second time. The blunt pain spread in his shoulder, but he managed to grab the staff. The avaat started tugging on it, but Milo held strong and reached to the middle of the weapon, shrinking it from the enemy’s hands.

He couldn’t give the enemy the time to understand what had happened. He reactivated the staff, now in his hands again, and swung it right to the avaat’s ear holes. They fell to the ground. 

Two down. 

He didn’t take the time to gloat or catch his breath and brought down his staff on the alien that had him into a chokehold, before they could fully stand up.

Three down.

“Stop!”

Milo froze as he turned to the last avaat, they had a scar that ran down from their chin to under their suit. They were hovering near Zeph and Thaska, one of the heavier repair tools in their hands, ready to strike.

They emitted a few hisses and clicks, before speaking with a breathy voice. “Give up, or I hurt them.”

Milo raised his hands.

The avaat raised their improvised weapon as a threat. If they brought it down, it could be anywhere on Thaska’s body, and in his condition, any hit could be deadly. Especially with such a heavy tool. He glanced around, thanking the fact it wouldn't be seen through his mask. What could he do to distract them? What could he use? He still had one full vial that could release toxic gas at his belt. 

Reaching for it would be too noticeable though.

The panel to open the cargo’s doors and mess with gravity was on his right, but getting there would also give him the time to hit Thaska. Opening the doors also presented a risk. Both his friends would be sucked out as well.

“Drop your weapon.”

He let go. The staff clattered loudly against the ground, shrinking back to its pocket size.

“Kick it away.”

He did.

He kept his hands raised in front of him. One wrong move and they could die. 

They opened their mouth again, but was interrupted by a loud shrill coming from the radar in the cockpit. Surprised, they turned in the direction of the cockpit, lowering slightly the weapon.

A distraction.

Milo reached for the vial, and threw it at the foot of the tables. Green smoke filled the air like a thick fog, and Milo dove in.

He tackled his enemy, and heard the sound of metal against metal as the tool hit the ground instead of Thaska. The alarm was still blaring as they exchanged blows, until Milo finally managed to knock them out, slamming their head on the ground.

His mask was whirring slightly, purifying the gas so he could breathe properly.

He had to get his friends out of the toxic fog.

* * *

His wound was burning when he finally sat down in the cockpit seat to shut down the alarm.

His friends had been relocated in the cockpit with him, and the avaats thrown out of the cargo.

He pressed a few buttons to see what the radar was screaming about and Milo froze. That was bad.

The two ships were approaching once again.

He should have guessed that one of those four would have had the time to alert the bigger ships while they were fighting.

He threw a glance at Zeph and Thaska and started the engine, piloting the ship off the crevice. He’d have to find another hiding spot. The nearest planet was too far to be reached without being noticed.

Especially for an old, repurposed cargo with only one conscious crewmate who wasn’t great at piloting.

Thankfully, the asteroid belt was pretty wide.

He could hide for a few more days.

Hopefully.

* * *

It had taken him more time than he would have liked to find another secure hiding place. Nothing was wide enough for the cargo, or he had to speed up because the avaat ships were too close. 

They had been shot once and while it didn’t do lasting damage, it had been enough to violently shake the ship.

And worsen Zeph and Thaska’s conditions.

He put masks that would provide oxygen, as they had inhaled the toxic gas. He had to re-do a few bandages that had been moved out of place when he rushed them away from the toxic fog.

Milo’s wound had reopened, but thankfully the healing cream had done its job and he didn’t need to stitch himself back again. He didn’t think he would be able to do it again.

However, putting more healing cream would have been ideal, but he didn’t want to risk it. Not if that meant waking up to having their ship infiltrated again, and having his friend taken hostage while their condition was even worse.

The oxygen masks were helping, but barely.

After checking one last time that there were no enemies in sight, he went to check on his friends once more.

The bandages were still clean. Thaska’s temperature had risen. Zeph’s heartbeat was way too slow for what the usual beat of his species would be.

He eyed the healing pod.

He would need it. If their conditions worsened even by a fraction, they could… He pinched his lips together and looked at his feet. 

His work would have been for nothing.

He could feel his chest tighten and squeeze. The familiar burn of tears on his eyes. His heart sped up in his chest.

He took a long breath in.

He had to keep himself in check. Neither Zeph or Thaska would get better if he let his anxiety run free. He had to use that energy for useful things, instead of pacing around and having breakdowns. 

He made a small mental list of what he could do, and exhaled.

The first step to go through was the maintenance and repairs of the healing pod.

* * *

Within the first two hours, Thaska’s fever had worsened. He tried keeping it low with a cold, wet rag over his forehead. Had his friend been awake, he probably would have complained. He knew Thaska hated being wet for any other reasons than cleaning himself. If he was drenched, he tended to look like an angry cat that had already gone through a few hundreds ways of ending someone’s life.

Within four hours, he changed their hiding place again, opting for another crevice in a huge asteroid that dwarfed their ship. The crevice was actually akin to a cave. This would be deep enough to put them completely out of sight, but that meant not seeing outside himself. It was probably safer. Yet, the anxiety of not being able to gaze out with his own eyes remained. The radar was usually trustful, but something in the asteroid belt was jamming the signal. 

At least, he reassured himself, it would be the same for the avaats’ radar.

He actually managed to get a good amount of work done during the fifth to the seventh hour. He still periodically stood up and went to check the radar, even if it wasn’t doing any noises. On the way back from the cockpit, he was taking Thaska’s temperature, changing the wet rag to a fresher one and checking over Zeph.

Zeph’s pulse was still abnormally low. While it worried him, he couldn’t really do anything with what he had here.

It only made him work harder. The faster the healing pod would be up and running again, the faster he could put Zeph in it for him to heal. 

A few hours later, the radar had gone off, and Milo shut it off, looking out for two avaats ships, but instead found a relatively big one the cargo couldn’t identify. He got their ship closer to the entrance to see it with his own two eyes. 

Maybe it was a friendly ship? Maybe they would have more resources than he did to help his friends. Maybe they would take them to the nearest planet without a hitch. It wouldn’t be the first time they met kind souls in space. Although they usually weren’t being pursued when they did.

He didn’t really know what he expected as the ship came into view. But a wreck wasn’t it. 

It clearly had been floating amongst the asteroids for a while. There were a few holes where he assumed the cockpit would be. It was bigger than their cargo ship. That one probably would have needed a crew of five or six people to keep it running properly.

He didn’t know the ship's model by sight, only that it looked old and impractical. Maybe it was one of those human relics?

Milo wrote down the signal of it, and kept it in the back of his mind, as he retreated the ship back into the cave of the asteroid. He was almost done with the healing pod. He could worry about human relics later.

He managed to finish it in 40 minutes after that, wiring the correct cables back together and connecting it back to the ship’s energy.

It had been harder and harder to focus as the events finally wore him down for good. The remnants of the healing cream also didn’t help even if they were mostly faded by now. Thankfully, he just had to run a scan to see if the machine was good to work. 

He really hoped that he had rewired the pod properly.

He pressed a few buttons on the small keyboard next to the machine, and it lit up. The flicker of hope grew bigger. This was a good thing! It didn’t light up before. He kept his eyes glued to the screen over the keyboard. The numerous components’ names flashed on it as they were being scanned.

The blue-greenish light that filled the pod and the screen suddenly switched to red.

_ERROR : energy core underperforming_

There was a small countdown on the right side of the screen before the whole pod shut down. Milo kept staring at the machine for a bit longer. So much for the flicker of hope. It had been crushed fast and hard, and despair was crawling in his insides stronger than before.

It felt suffocating.

The pod was the only way for him to heal his friends. He didn’t have the time to go to a hospital on the nearest planet. 

Even if he did, getting there had more chances to get the three of them dead. He couldn’t pilot the ship alone. It wouldn’t operate as well. He wouldn’t have a chance. They would all die.

He needed the pod. It needed to _work_. So why didn’t it?!

He tugged at his hair again, slowly shifting to a crouching position. He couldn’t think straight anymore. His heartbeat was pounding behind his ears. 

What else could he do? How else could he save them? Their conditions got even worse because of him. If he had gone for the anti-gravity instead of chucking his last vial, maybe they’d have remained stable enough. Maybe he would just have to worry about hiding long enough from the avaats for them to recover.

To his panic, only silence answered.

He had to help them. He had to find a way. He just _had_ to. They couldn’t die.

They _wouldn’t_ die. 

Milo got an idea.

* * *

_It probably was a terrible idea_ , he thought as he gave a last glance at his friends floating idly in the ship. 

He double checked his thrusters and toolbelt before pushing himself off the wall, where he had deactivated gravity, and floated toward the cargo’s exit. The first door closed behind him, sealed shut until his return. His mask started supplying oxygen as the second door opened.

He started his way toward the human relic. The design of it looked incredibly old, and it was definitely busted. 

The outside was heavily dented, the paint was mostly scratched off, making Milo unable to completely identify the possible markings there could have been on it. One good thing was noticeable however.

It had been spared from scavengers.

Jitters went up his arms as he widened his stance, ready to grab the ship when he’d be close enough.

Just a little bit more.

Milo’s hand shot forward, one settling flat against the metal, and the other one finding a dent a bit deeper than the rest to grab on.

He could feel a cramp in his palm by the time he had brought his whole body against the shipwreck. He would have to find a way to latch himself to it soon, if the cramp creeping up his arm was anything to go by.

Using the leverage he could, he made his way toward the closest window and peeked inside of it. The ship was unsurprisingly devoid of life.

He took a breath, and kept crawling around the ship until he found himself in front of the cockpit’s glass. There were two holes of decent size in them. Perfect.

With one hand, he took a rope from his tool belt and passed it through them, making a strong knot, and tugging on it to see if it was secure.

That would do.

He palmed the rest of his tools.

* * *

The cut chunk of metal he had kicked in was still spinning inside when he had taken his rope back and crawled inside. He quickly froze when he saw a cylinder resting in a corner of the room he had entered.

A healing pod.

It was old, probably didn’t work as efficiently as the ones the ones they had nowadays… if it worked at all. But it looked completely undamaged.

He passed his tongue on his lips, and looked around the machine, checking all the components he could. They all seemed to be in order. He would need to replace some of the older stuff but… but this could help save his friends. If he could take it back and install it on their ship, the chances of having to make choices between Zeph and Thaska would be greatly reduced. This would help.

It took him some time, but Milo managed to get the pod out of its base, even if it left him panting and sweaty.

He turned away from it once it started floating and tried to look around the room for what he came for initially.

An energy core would probably be easy to find here. Only the fact that the healing pod was almost in perfect condition aside from a few minor repairs gave him great hopes to find one.

He set off across the ship, towards the back of it. His eyes fell on a trap door on the floor as soon as he entered the room. That definitely looked like the opening to the engines.

It opened with a long creak and Milo peeked inside. 

This was definitely the way to the engines.

* * *

He pushed some floating rusted tools on the side on his way down, using the equally rusted pipes as leverage to get across faster. The engines were cramped. His belt was often hitting something or almost getting stuck.

There was no trace of life down there.

The engines definitely had been made for a more petite and slender race that would fit with the old descriptions of humans. It was pretty narrow made for work only. He knew Zeph would loudly complain about not being able to spread his wings and getting cramps into them, while Thaska would probably have been stuck at the beginning of the room, with his large shoulders.

The corner of his lips quirked up as he pictured his friends being on the shipwreck alongside him. 

It vanished quickly.

If he wanted to go through shipwrecks and relics with them anytime soon, he needed to stay focused.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to go much further to find a few round shapes with a handle stuck in one of the walls. Energy cores.

Like everything in this ship, they were old. But energy cores were energy cores, and even old they would save his friends.

A lot of them were defective, but he managed to save two that would still be up for use. He had to be glad that their cargo was old enough not to be fully adapted to newer smaller energy cores.

Keeping them close to his chest, he made his way back to the room where the pod was.

He then tied everything. The two cores, the pod, and himself were tied up in a way the items would be tugged along with him as he made his way back. He made a larger hole so everything could pass through, and activated his thrusters to get a start toward their hidden ship.

He was pretty sure the human relic had been drifting away from their hideout while he was into it.

He had to be careful moving around the smaller asteroids, so the pod and energy cores wouldn’t bump into anything.

It was a slow but steady progression. He focused on the feeling of the rocks under his hands as he propelled himself off of them, activating his thrusters at the same time to go further, hopping closer and closer to their ship. 

Closer to Zeph and Thaska.

As he was pulling on the rope to get the items in the entrance of the cave, two blue beams struck the abandoned ship.

 _Avaats_ , Milo quickly concluded as he felt his guts shrink against themselves. 

He had to hurry to his ship. He had to prepare to get out of there. He turned around from the human relic that was still bombarded with laser shots, and used his thrusters at full power to reach toward their cargo. It was just down further the entrance.

Some shrapnel was propulsed away from the destroyed ship, and came at full speed towards him. One nicked into the rope between him and his loot, and he had to grab at it before it would float away. Another sliced into his arm.

He gritted his teeth and pulled in the rope to keep going towards the ship.

He entered the password to open the cargo’s door, nearly missing some of the numbers with his trembling fingers and quickly left his treasures in the main room, with his friends.

Both were still floating, clearing unconscious. They hadn’t woken up. 

He checked both their pulses before scrambling to the cockpit. He took the commands. He was ready to leave the hideout if needed.

He didn’t know if he had been seen. 

Seconds passed.

His grip shifted on the gears, trying to find the perfect position, yet feeling uncomfortable due to anticipation everytime.

The radar was still malfunctioning.

More seconds passed.

The cave’s entrance was darkened by the huge side of the Avaat’s ship, blocking the light out. It passed slowly, going toward the ship they had completely destroyed.

This tunnel inside an asteroid wouldn’t be noticed easily. 

His thumb ran across the side of the controls.

The enemies went still. For a few seconds, Milo was certain he had been spotted hopping back to the entrance. They would slowly turn around and shoot at the asteroid itself. They would block the entrance. They would kill them off.

Instead, their engines lit up again and they took off. 

They did so much slower than he would have preferred, and, like he had done many hours ago, he waited a few more minutes after they went away before going back to the main room of the cargo ship.

He had a healing pod to repair, and another one to install.

He flinched a bit when he reached for the floating pod. He would have to take care of the new gash in his arm first maybe. 

He looked around the few things that were floating - his friends, the repair tools, a few papers - until he found the healing kit. He had forgotten to close it, and most of its insides were around it. It was a bit unconventional, but it helped him find the disinfectant and bandages. There wasn’t much left, but it would have to be enough.

He eyed the healing cream, too, but decided against it. He couldn’t let them be sneaked up on again. He needed energy to protect them.

Bandaging himself with one hand had been tricky to learn, but with all the adventures he went through ever since meeting his friends, it was a skill he quickly mastered. 

Soon, his arm was properly taken care of. 

He stared at the bandages longer than he should have had, feeling like his responsibilities were escaping him for a few seconds. He quickly snapped back to reality, blinking a few times.

The healing pods.

Milo pushed the older model he had scavenged on the side, and took hold of one of the energy cores. This one was the priority. Zeph’s condition was the most worrisome and getting him and his wings in this pod was already a squeeze sometimes. He would have to undo most of his work on the first pod to get it working however.

He couldn’t lose time.

He grabbed the tool he needed, floating near him, and got to work. 

Gravity would wait until the repairs were done.

* * *

The busted energy core was released with a small hissing sound, and Milo pulled it away from the half taken apart machine. The usually light blue lines on the side of it were crimson. 

He pushed it in a direction where it wouldn’t hit any of the machine’s pieces, and reached for one of the two he had brought back.

“Hey, Milo!”

His hand froze near the handle of the core, and twisted his head back towards Thaska so fast it could have snapped.

But Thaska was still unconscious, hovering lightly over the table.

His gaze shifted to Zeph. He wasn’t moving either.

He was certain he had heard Thaska call his name. He blinked once, squeezing his eyelids together in an attempt to chase the budding haze in his brain away. He probably was just hearing things. 

Aside from floating items, his friends and himself, nobody was in the ship. He had checked for avaats outside not too long ago. And even if it was them, they didn’t know how he was called.

He… most likely had hallucinated someone calling his name. 

Milo checked around him one last time still, just to be sure, before he turned back to encase the core into the machine’s socket. A satisfying click, and it was settled. He double-checked if the core would be enough to support the healing pod. Everything was clear. 

He just had to put the rest back now.

* * *

“Milo!”

It was the fourth time, yet Milo still went rigid and turned his head too fast behind him. He felt like his eyes had a dry layer on top of them that blinking couldn’t melt away. It was itchy, but with his mask, he couldn’t scratch the feeling away. That didn’t stop him from raising the inside of his wrist to where his eye would have been, bumping it uselessly against the metal.

He kept hearing people call his voice. The two first time, he was pretty sure it sounded like his friends, but this one didn’t sound like anyone he would have known. 

He took it as his cue to go check if avaats were close. 

They weren’t in sight. 

But the destroyed heaps of metal of what used to be a human relic served as a reminder to what would happen to them if he didn’t work fast enough.

He floated back to the main room and took Thaska’s temperature.

It was still holding strong and rising, yet none of that showed on his face. It was still as peaceful as if he was sleeping. There was no fit, no usual grump. Not even one pained scowl.

He left the thermometer to float on the spot and got to Zeph, equally unmoving.

He could barely feel his pulse. He was still alive, that much he knew… but he didn’t know for how long. He only had to finish repairing the pod. He had to do it. He only missed a few screws and plugging in the cables.

He went back to work.

* * *

“ _Milo!”_

He looked sharply to the left. 

Nothing.

Of course.

He trained his eyes back to his hands.

He was holding a screwdriver. The screws were not floating far.

What had he been doing? 

One of the pod’s metal plates was under his other hand, held against the machine, one of the four corners had been screwed already.

He tried to clear the haze by blinking some more.

Right. He was finishing the pod. He readjusted his grip on the tool, and finished putting in the screws. Once done, he looked at his work.

It was done. It would work this time. He just had to replace it properly on its base. 

Just put it on the base.

Right. 

He stared at his handiwork a bit too long, thoughts forcefully dragged away from the present moment. His mind was looping like a broken record. He had to put the machine on the base. He had to repair it. He needed to put in the screws.

What did he have to do again?

The pod.

He caught himself back, shaking his head as he did. It made him slightly nauseous.

He took hold of the healing pod and guided it on its base, he twisted it until he heard the tell tale _click_ saying it was finally in place. That it was ready to be tested.

He lit up the screen, anticipation only growing. He couldn’t let his hopes up too much, yet. It had worked this far last time too, before it shut down. He typed away, setting the machine for a self-scan, and waited.

The components were listed once again on the screen, as the machine kept his green color. While he struggled following all their names, he did manage to read “energy core : ok”, and one of the knots in his guts loosened. 

The scavenged energy core had been enough.

Soon enough, the scan was complete and cleared. The green light shut down slowly, leaving only the screen lit, ready to receive the next command. He stared at it, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he had done it.

He had done it.

He typed away.

The healing pod lit up once again, and its door opened.

He delicately took his friend, placing him inside the machine, and returned to the keyboard.

The door closed, and the machine started scanning. An approximation of when Zeph would be let out showed up on screen. At least a day. The machine was slower than usual… or Zeph was more hurt than usual. He sincerely hoped it was the former.

If it was the machine being slower, he could just blame it on the old energy core and change it on the nearest planet, so it would be efficient again.

If it was Zeph, he probably would never forgive himself for not having done more.

He kept looking at him through the glass, thoughts being pulled away from himself once more. The itch in his eyes came back ten times stronger as relief settled in his guts. A light headache was buzzing at the front of his head.

He couldn’t relax now. He still had to help Thaska. He had to check on the second pod. He had to keep them in a safe place. They couldn’t be spotted. He had to defend them. He couldn’t claim victory yet. He could be relieved for Zeph, but they weren’t out of danger.

He couldn’t rest. Not now.

He would rest once the three of them would no longer be in danger. Once they’d both be awake and conscious. When Thaska would be grumbling about the mission, when Zeph would complain along. When they would land on the nearest planet. Safe.

He propelled himself toward the second pod, and grabbed it.

He had to put this one in order too. Especially if Thaska’s fever persisted.

* * *

Milo lowered his hands from the machine when his right eyelid started twitching uncontrollably. It felt like something was tugging at the skin, like a child would to get his parent’s attention. He tried closing his eyes tightly, hoping the feeling would leave soon.

The tugging stayed for a few more seconds. He reopened his eyes, looking down at his hands. He was holding his tool and some pieces from the second pod that were still in his hands. 

What was it he was supposed to do now?

Ah, right. 

He was checking all the vital components of the second healing pod, and trying to replace the little bits and pieces he could when he found them in too poor condition.

Theoretically, the pod was still functional, when he took it. But in practice? Not so much. A lot of things had to be replaced, and Milo thanked himself for taking two energy cores.

Pieces were floating astray around him, and it took him more time than he liked to find the ones he needed. Everytime he waved one away when it was floating too close to his face, he couldn’t help but close and spread his fingers, trying to get the clammy feeling off of them.

* * *

He was unscrewing one of the bolts in the machine that kept a small metallic door shut in the compartment when the alarm started blaring once again. 

His pulse immediately jumped to his neck as he pushed himself off the machine, bumping into the table and the wall before reaching the cockpit. 

He froze when he saw the grey glint of an avaat ship pass in front of the entrance of the cavern.

Milo shut off the sound, almost afraid it’d be heard all the way to the other ship, and stood still. His hands were on the commands, at the ready. From here, it would be a tight manoeuvre to escape. 

But these kinds of ships’ cannons weren’t usually suited for close-range combat. If he angled their cargo correctly, he could somehow avoid the shots.

But the ship kept passing close… until it disappeared once again.

Five minutes passed.

Ten minutes passed.

Milo’s heart did not slow down. He could feel the beats traveling across his arms, through his wrists, making his fingers pulse along. In fact, his whole body was twitching along to the pulse.

He felt like he had just run a marathon. 

Avaats couldn’t have passed through there by mistake. It wouldn’t make sense. If his alarm blared… then probably so did theirs. They had had more than enough time to repair their ship since their initial escape. 

He exhaled, uselessly trying to calm down his pulse and started the engine. He had to find another hideout. They probably would come back soon. He could probably find another sort of cavern carved into another asteroid.

He didn’t know how much longer putting back the healing pod together would take.

The ship moved forward, and Milo exited the asteroid.

* * *

This one was less hidden than the previous hideout, but it was between asteroids that were much closer to each other. 

On the good part, the avaats would have an absolutely terrible time navigating here, as it would be near impossible for their spaceships’ size. 

On the bad part, the asteroids here were more prone to bump into each other, which could cause tremors and loud noises inside their ship. It wouldn’t damage anything per se, but if the way his pulse sped up at literally anything was anything to go by, Milo would have an even worse time than he had already.

After flying, he managed to calm himself down, but the general anxiety didn’t ease. It still felt like everything was going to happen at once. As if _everything_ was waiting for him around a corner, ready to choke him.

He made a face when his sore wound burned his flank and the gash stung his shoulder when he pushed himself off the seat.

Even if it made him wake up to intruders, the healing definitely had helped. He probably wouldn’t have managed to go scavenge without it.

Everything felt blank as he was about to exit the cockpit. And he stared at his hand absentmindedly, while everything and nothing was running through his head. 

It was trembling. He could barely feel it, but it was trembling. There was still a bit of blood on the side of his wrist. He didn’t know whose it was. All of their blood had a slightly different color, but dried, they were all the same.

It could be Zeph’s or Thaska’s. It could be his.

His pulse picked up in pace once again, but Milo did his best to snap out of the onslaught of emotions. He would have time to reflect upon it later.

Later.

When his friends would both be safe.

He passed the hand he was watching in his hair, flinching slightly as it caught in some locks that blood had clumped together.

He had to stay focused.

Just a little while longer.

He was almost halfway through with the second pod. He just needed to check on a few last pieces, maybe change them if needed. Then there was only putting everything back together left.

He just had to ignore the way his eyes felt more itchy and drier than ever and kept taking longer to open when he blinked. He just had to ignore the way he had locked his jaw when yawning.

He couldn’t take the time to yawn. 

He had to work.

Thaska’s fever wasn’t going down.

* * *

He could barely feel his fingers. He knew he could move them, but they felt so heavy. 

His head also tended to loll on one side before he shook his body awake to keep working. He couldn’t fall asleep. He was practically done with the pod. He just needed to keep awake a little bit longer.

A little bit… longer.

He had to keep awake.

The thought itself was muffled, tuned out of his own head.

He could feel the grip he had on the tools loosen up, bit by bit. He couldn’t sleep. He had to stay awake. 

He barely could muster energy in his hands. His head started to tilt again. His blinks became heavier and heavier.

 _No!_

His head jerked up suddenly, making his pulse jump up to his neck and ears.

He was floating a bit further from where he was a few seconds ago, his hands were empty. He didn’t remember moving. He didn’t remember letting go of the tools. He didn’t remember being so far away from the pod. He couldn’t have floated that far away in a few seconds right? 

Right?

Putting his foot on the table behind him, he pushed himself back to the pod.

He was almost there.

Almost there.

He hazily looked over the floating bits and pieces, the tools, and found the ones he had let go off. And returned to work.

He was almost there. 

Yet, everything felt like a long and exhausting task. He had to keep his eyelids open every time they drooped. He had to force his fingers closed, but the effort made it feel like he had been arm wrestling with someone for the past hours. His hands kept on trembling. He had to keep them steady for the reassembling. His head lolled once again, and the effort to keep it up gripped him at the throat.

He would jerk suddenly and find himself with empty hands and further from where he remembered. He even jerked awake when he bumped into Thaska once.

The progress was slow. 

Everytime he snapped back to consciousness, everything felt nauseating.

It was clammy in his suit. The sticky feeling crawled up to his arms, his chest. Everything was feeling sweaty and _gross_.

He kept trying to rub his hand across his face, only for it to bump in his mask, and he resorted to just passing it in his hair. His white locks were now clumped with dried blood and machine oil. The disgusting feeling only strengthened around his neck and stomach.

But then, finally… _finally_. 

He plugged the cables together, and put the pod in the ideal place. It didn’t have a base, but it was between the wall and first pod. If he turned gravity back on, it would stay upright, too.

He approached the old keyboard. 

It was mechanical, instead of digital like the newer models. It was in the qwerty alphabetical order already, however. This pod probably wasn’t too old then, if it had such similarities to the recent ones. 

The rush of success bringing back a bit of energy, he typed away on the keyboard.

The light flickered on. It wasn’t green or red, or any color for that matter. How strange.

He licked his dry lips, trying to push down the thick feeling of his saliva and kept trying to activate a scan. It took him a few tries to enter the commands. He may have had a new surge of energy, but his hand coordination was not at its best.

Eventually, the pod started doing a self scan.

He blankly stared at the colorless light in the pod, spacing out. He spread and curled his fingers, trying to wake them up. It probably would be narrow, but Thaska could fit in this pod. 

He glanced to Zeph, held up in his pod, unmoving. The countdown was now at 20 hours. His face was still awfully neutral. It didn’t sit well with Zeph. He always had some kind of emotion on his face, amplified by his avian features. 

...He didn’t like seeing Zeph so emotionless.

He turned back to the pod. The light was unchanged.

Why hadn’t it turned green already? By now the scan would be over right?

He looked down at the screen over the mechanical keyboard. A confirmation that the scan had been completed blinked on the small screen. He reviewed the list of components that had been checked. He had to make sure everything was there.

Not only was everything there, but everything was clear to work and be used.

A jitter of excitement ran through his fingertips and up his arms. His heartbeat increased. Taking breaths in was somehow as difficult as it was relieving. The second pod was ready.

He turned to Thaska, and took his temperature.

It had raised again. It was most likely an infection then. 

Even if it wasn’t, Milo preferred being safe than sorry. The pod would greatly help the healing process in any case. He started pulling his friend toward the healing pod.

Thaska’s face was closer to his usual self, even unconscious. The stillness of his body however, Milo didn’t enjoy. Even sleeping, Thaska’s tail or ears flicked around, he would have nervous twitches that would be telling on his current state of mind, even before he would come around to talk about it.

The door closed, and Milo typed away, initiating the healing process.

Strangely, the pod didn’t show how long Thaska would remain in it. He tried writing down some inputs on the keyboard, but nothing worked. He preferred not to touch it anymore, out of fear he would mess something up, and that it would impact Thaska.

* * *

He could only float between the pods and the cockpit for so long.

Now that he was pushing himself off around less, he could barely feel his legs. It felt like everything waist-down was detached from his own body. He could feel something wrong with his feet, but nothing at the same time. The same kind of feeling someone would get from staring into the void.

Stretching his legs and body didn’t help anymore. If he moved too much or too fast, his pulse would climb up his temples and would leave him panting for what felt like hours on end.

He kept eying the panels where he would be able to turn gravity back on, until finally, he gave up. 

He pushed himself towards the panel and pressed the button that would put gravity back on..

He immediately fell to the ground in a cacophonous number of sounds, varying from his “oof”, to the different tools and whatnots that were still floating around the pods. A wave of dizziness washed over him as he was left stomach on the ground.

The world rang for a bit, ears sore from all the noises, and still in shock from the fall. So much to try to keep his heartbeat slow-ish. He tried standing up, but the dizziness got stronger and where he would have seen his hands, he could see between four and six, trying to merge back into two.

He let himself fall back on the ground instead, waiting for his head to stop spinning, and the ringing to quiet down.

Only then, he tried again, putting his arms under his body and pushing himself up.

He had to use the wall to fully put himself on his feet. It felt weird for a few moments where he stumbled around, trying to get his legs working properly again. Everything felt heavier.

Everything _was_ heavier. 

He hadn’t kept count of how many hours he had been working and moving without gravity, but it was enough he wasn’t used to his own weight anymore.

He gave a look at Zeph’s remaining time in the pod. Sixteen hours. That was still a lot.

He had to keep watch. He had to make sure they wouldn’t be attacked. He had to make sure his friends wouldn’t have any more complications while in the pod. He had to protect them.

He wanted to hear Zeph and Thaska’s banter again. 

He had to make sure they were okay.

He had… to…

He jerked up from his crouching position, almost falling to the ground on all fours, and tried rubbing at his eyes again, forgetting about his mask. 

When that didn’t work, he looked down at his hand. It was holding something. Cables. 

He frowned.

What was he doing with those cables? He didn’t need them for anything anymore. He just had to wait for his friends to wake up. He could hold that long. He looked around him, and the bits and pieces that littered the cargo’s floor were much less in numbers.

His eyes fell on two little boxes full of those trinkets. Both of them had a sloppy handwriting on them, curving down to become unintelligible.

Right! He remembered. 

He dropped the cable in the box that should have been titled ‘usable’ but read as ‘usel-’ before it became a meaningless curly line. 

He felt like he had been doing this for hours. Surely, his friends would get out of their pods by now. Zeph’s pod’s countdown showed fifteen hours.

The general feeling of nausea settled deeper on his stomach. Making it harder to breathe. Time was not passing by. No matter how much he was looking up to the remaining hours, it felt like they never shifted.

Yet, he kept cleaning up the mess he had made repairing the pods and healing his friends.

* * *

Everything littering had been cleaned up.

He had gone to check the cockpit, and saw nothing outside. He did try cleaning that room as well. They didn’t often do a spring cleaning of their ship. The main problem was the lack of space when they were… well, floating in space. 

As they were doing right now.

Honestly, Milo was just moving stuff from point A to point B, trying to make use of the hours he had left to wait.

The nauseating feeling still hadn’t gone away. He was sweating more than ever, the initial clamminess that had never left finally getting to its final stage. It only got stronger when the countdown only went down by one hour.

He kept seeing shadows move out from his eyesight, and kept hearing his name.

The headache at the front of his skull only worsened to a migraine and, when he stumbled over the two boxes he had named ‘usel-’ and ‘unubl-’, he couldn’t see anything for a while. 

The world was dark, before it cleared up slowly, coming back into focus as his heartbeat was thumping madly in his chest.

He looked at the countdown.

Fifteen hours.

He had to make it. He had to protect them.

He sat up, heaving slightly when his body protested. He was unbalanced as he got to his feet, and used the nearby table.

He had to fight against his body. His eyes were shutting by themselves, and he jerked back to consciousness only when he felt himself fall down once again.

He caught himself on the table with both hands.

Everything was fuzzy and muddled. He could barely see his fingertips correctly. 

The table still had blood on it… maybe he could clean it. That would pass time. Definitely. 

Yes. 

He would do that.

He would do…

Do what?

Clean. Right, clean.

Both the table and the walls and the floor where his friend and himself had bled.

The blood was dried, but thankfully the metal allowed it to be washed off pretty easily. 

There had been a lot of blood. 

He didn’t like it. 

The bucket he had been cleaning with looked like it had been filled with it from the get go. 

He was probably making things even bloodier at this point.

He looked at the countdown.

Still fifteen hours.

He stared at it, dumbly. He had been working and cleaning things for hours. Everytime he fought against his body and jerked back to consciousness, it felt like hours were passing by. Everything was so long, and so time consuming. How come the countdown remained the same?

How much longer would he have to see fifteen hours? How much longer would he have to see Zeph and Thaska still as statues in those pods? How much longer would he have to see Zeph’s lack of expressions? How much longer would he have to see Thaska’s lack of twitches? 

How much longer would he have to be _alone_?

He could feel tears starting to gather at his eyelids, but it quickly was overshadowed by the exploding pain at the front of his head. It spread through his brain, blinded his eyes. His legs started wobbling and he barely held himself up on the table.

It was getting hard to breathe. Everything was too much. He could feel the sweat crawling down his back, the way his muscles trembled to keep him up on his legs without managing. He could feel his arms starting to give up. He could feel the bile burning his stomach.

He took a choked breath in.

His arms gave up, and he collapsed, hitting his head on the table and spilling the bucket over as he went down.

The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was the bright green numbers of the Zeph’s pod.

Fourteen hours.

* * *

He could feel tremors around him. They held no rhythm, but were relatively strong. Still, they were distant. He was pretty sure that if he was closer to them, he would have had a hard time keeping balance. For each tremor he could hear muffled sounds he couldn't identify. 

He felt like he was floating in a bubble, away yet too close from the world. Every shake and tremors was sudden and gentle at the same time. Milo slowly realized they were shocks being absorbed.

As his mind awakened, he felt a light headache buzz at the front of his skull. It was not hurting as much as it was disorienting. He felt as if he was stuck between dream and reality. 

He opened his eyes, face still hidden behind his trusted mask. He blurrily saw a dark figure with purple hair shift and twitch behind the glass panel. 

The healing pod’s door opened with a hiss as his feet hit the ground. He barely got the time to fully understand where he had been that he fell forward. 

He expected to meet the floor, but was instead stopped mid-fall by two arms that tried to hold him upright by the shoulders.

It took Milo much more time than he would have liked to admit to piece everything back together. He stood up from the uncomfortable slouch against Thaska and immediately grabbed his friend’s face to check for temperature.

Thaska stiffened, but quickly relaxed, his expression morphing into passing frustration, overshadowed by relief. He crouched slightly so his head would be more at Milo’s level. 

“Only you would worry about me right after getting out of the healing pod.” He ended up grumbling, one of his smaller ears twitching when fingers brushed up against it.

Thaska didn’t have temperature. While he still looked a bit roughed up, he was standing, breathing and he was definitely half is grumpy self at _least_. The holes in his suit were still there, but there was no gaping, bleeding wounds under it all. 

He seemed to be holding himself up fine.

Once Milo was done with his check up, he let Thaska stand back properly, before grasping him into a hug.

Thaska didn’t move for a few seconds, before he hugged him back, one hand going in Milo’s dirtied white hair. It quickly went to the back instead, when his clawed fingers got tangled in the bloodied and oily hair.

Before the smaller alien could get any more sentimental, the cargo ship shook violently. Both of them would have crashed if it wasn’t for Thaska’s reflexes, where he stood with his legs wider and gripped Milo tighter for balance. An explosion detonated in the distance.

“Hey! First of all, _rude_ , I want an emotional moment and a hug as well!” The boyish voice of Zeph shouted from the open cockpit.

The ship rocked again, and the explosion sounded louder and closer. This time, Thaska almost fell, being sent a few feet away, dragging Milo with him.

“Second of all, a little help? Cause we’re _still being chased_!” 

As if on cue, a laser exploded right in front of the cockpit, illuminating the inside of it light blue for a moment.

Both of them quickly joined Zeph, each taking their respective seats. The avian gave a quick side glance at Milo and threw him a smile, before focusing back on not crashing into an asteroid. “Nice to have you back! You wouldn’t imagine how much of a crybaby Thaska was.”

Milo hummed lightly in response, already clicking on the different buttons to show the status of the ship and where he would most likely have to repair it again later. So far, aside from a few asteroids it had taken in its sides while he was piloting, everything seemed to be in order.

He brought up the shields, hoping it would be enough of a defense to get them out of there alive.

“Hey it’s _your_ snot all over _my_ suit, Zeph!” Thaska retorted while operating his side of the commands. Milo grimaced as he realized he probably had touched said snot when he stumbled out of the pod.

He could see the weapons Thaska controlled pointing toward the avaat ship. They weren’t very strong, but they made up for a good lightshow that could distract enemies if aimed right.

“You don’t have any proof!”

The ship trembled as the shield got hit. The next shot caught an asteroid that was sent to crash in another one. He could see the avaats charging up a much larger shot.

“Sure I do! Come here and see it for yourself!”

He redirected most of the shield towards the right side of the ship, the asteroids were still colliding together, making it much harder to anticipate where Zeph would dodge. It was both great to avoid the enemies, and a problem to correctly place the shield.

“Well you were pretty shaken up too!”

He saw the cannons still for a second, a bit off-aim with the shields. And Milo risked a glance on his side, towards Zeph. Even though the conversation had had its usual lighter tones, Zeph’s face was anything but light.

He could guess that, in his back, it was Thaska’s case too. 

It’s when he looked down to himself he realized his clothes were caked with what had been the bloody water. He couldn’t remember very well what had happened, as his last memories were pretty fuzzy, but he did remember clearly how thick the water had looked once he was done cleaning.

No wonder they had panicked.

A detonation was heard from where the avaat ships were, and a laser came directly toward them. It snapped them back into action, Zeph took a dive, barely avoiding an asteroid, and Milo and Thaska adjusted the shield and cannons in perfect synchronicity.

The shield held, but it’d be up to Zeph and Thaska to keep them safe until it recharged.

“At least I don’t see my snot on your suit!” Thaska said once he judged them safe enough to pick their banter back up. The shield was at 63%.

“Have you checked my crest? Because you’re a goddamn beanpo-...”

“Guys focus!” Milo cried out, when he saw a shot rushing towards their cargo. 

The cannons positioned themselves immediately, shooting back at the laser. The two shots collided, exploding in a blinding light. Zeph took the opportunity to accelerate and go through narrow parts of the belt, hoping to lose the two ships behind them. 

Milo was glad they had seatbelts. 

He turned towards the avian. “How much longer until we reach a frontier?”

“Should be close enough… I just know that when we get there we’re gonna get the biggest comfort breakfast cause these last days really sucked.”

“And a shower” Thaska added.

The shields were up and functioning again. Right in time too. He could see the avaats once again.

“And a nap.” Milo sighed.

* * *

Their ship had ended up receiving a few nasty shots, but they had managed to reach a frontier, cutting the enemies short on their chase, as they would be apprehended quickly if they made use of weaponry against a cargo ship.

With the little money they had left from their last venture, they could repair the ship.

After a shower and food they barely touched due to how emotionally and physically tired they had been, the three aliens could be found in the thoroughly cleaned common room of the cargo ship. Their beddings had been thrown on the ground, rearranged thoroughly by Zeph so it would look nest-y enough.

The three of them were out cold, sleeping peacefully with the knowledge of being safe. Zeph had a wing that missed a few feathers across the three of them while he half straddled over Milo. Thaska’s arm had become a pillow for everyone before he knew it, and his tail was gently curled on his friends’ legs.

And Milo, in the middle, had been out cold the moment he was surrounded by Zeph and Thaska, sleeping soundly, and finally getting a restful night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> I hoped you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> The prompts for this was "Exhaustion" and "Collapse", and I intended once again to make this a small chapter and failed spectacularly! It took me so long to finally get to the plot haha
> 
> As usual, this chapter was part of the [ One-Shot Prompt Challenge ](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/oneshot_prompts_challenge), you can click on the link to get redirected to the collection!


	8. Loss of Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompts fill : Loss of Faith
> 
> Warnings : non-consensual touching, non-consensual drug-use, self-harm, and a really nasty downward spiral that comes with the prompt.

He didn’t know how long it had been. He was often torn away from his corner, but he always went back to it. It didn’t feel reassuring. It didn’t feel safe. But it was the closest thing he had. From there, he could watch the door.

He almost never tore his gaze from it. They would come. His friends. The next time it opened, they would be there. It wouldn’t be the others.

Through the thick walls that surrounded his brain, he relentlessly hoped it wouldn’t be the others.

He hated the way their hands grabbed at his wrists and pulled him away from his corner. He hated the way their hands would rub along his arms and his back. He hated the way they felt.

A shiver travelled along his spine, as a colder breeze passed between him and his corner of the wall. The one in the left corner, where he could watch the door the best.

The breeze danced along his skin again, and he dug his fingers in his arms. It felt foreign, and strange. 

It was overwhelming.

Everything was too bright, too loud, too warm, too cold, too fast, too slow. Everything was too much.

He didn’t think he could ever get used to that.

He slowly started scratching at his upper arm.

He kept looking at the door, curled up in his corner, body relaxedly slumped against the corner. He wished it wasn’t relaxed. He wished he didn’t feel as stunted as he was. But he was. He had been ever since he tried making a break for it.

Relaxed.

Malleable.

The skin-deep itch at his arm only grew stronger, and he kept scratching, maybe a little stronger. As much as his body allowed him to through the thick haze.

It didn’t feel like his own hand.

He didn’t know how long it had been. Days? Weeks?

He only had a clear memory of what had happened when he arrived… and a few episodes after that, though he couldn’t precisely put them on a timeline. All of the rest was muddled. It felt like he had been in this white room for years.

Maybe he had. But somehow, it felt incorrect. Though there was nothing that allowed him to keep track of time. Nothing that he could keep a focus on, at least. He wouldn’t know how long it had been.

So he watched the door, and scratched the itch.

And scratched.

_ And scratched _ .

Until it came back, lightly, like a sliver of harsh reality, bursting through the chains that consumed his awareness and restricted his movements. That was when he remembered.

His friends.

The itch spread like wildfire, from his arms to his throat, burning down his stomach, and the overwhelming sensation only grew, and grew.

He could move again, he could think again. He felt tremors of energy, he would have to wait until those damn doors opened. He would escape again. He had learned since, his friends had taught him everything he had to know. He was faster, he was stronger. He’d never been this strong before.

Yet, being able to feel like himself again in his own body wasn’t a breath of fresh air. It was putrid and suffocating.

Instead of analyzing all he could, waiting for the perfect moment to escape, he only curled up more against his corner.

He felt like he was only a string away from breaking apart, and it felt  _ wrong _ . Everything felt  _ wrong. _

He grabbed at his hair with one hand - the one that wasn’t actively trying to scratch away what he  _ knew _ was on his upper arm - and yanked. He heard a whine that sounded foreign but knew it was his’. Because he had felt it in his throat.

But it was  _ wrong _ .

The way his hair felt between his fingers felt  _ wrong _ . The way the padding he had scratched away from the wall felt, felt  _ wrong _ . He could feel everything, and it felt too much.

His scratching turned more violent, hating the way his fingernails scraped on his bare skin, and he tried curling up tighter against the wall.

He didn’t want to be there. He wanted to be outside. He wanted to hear them bicker about which brand of canned food they would buy for their next venture. He wanted to play games with them again. He wanted to explore. He wanted to discover. He wanted to see the stars.

He wanted them to come for him.

He whined again, hating the way his voice sounded in the open, without his mask to catch most of it.

He pulled down on his hair, and felt something wet and warm get under his nails as he scratched. He could feel his whole body starting to cramp and lock into place, too bare against the world. He didn’t care. He only curled up on himself even further, forcing his head between his knees, yanking relentlessly on his locks. The uncomfortable stretch on his back and the way his chin made it hard to breathe was almost a relief.

He could control that. That was a control he desperately craved for. But when he glanced down at his bare legs, it felt wrong. It  _ looked  _ wrong. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. He knew what his bare body looked like. He showered. But it never looked bare for that long before.

Never for that long.

It didn’t feel like his body.

He knew he had to escape. He knew he couldn’t waste more time panicking in a corner he had already torn apart to feel something else than the warm, foreign and  _ wrong _ paddings of the room. He had to keep his cool, he had to look out for that door, devise a plan, and escape.

That’s what he was good at, wasn’t it? Between the three of them, he was always the one that could keep a cool head when the situation got sticky. The plans weren't always brilliant, but they always pulled through. Sometimes with closer calls. But he was good at last-minute plans. He was good at escaping.

That’s how he had met them both, too.

Yet, everything was too much, everything was too overwhelming. And he couldn’t keep calm. He didn’t manage to calm himself down. Everything felt worse, and worse, and worse. He couldn’t hear the commotion in the corridor behind the door, but he could guess it was coming for him. It wasn’t the first time. They would come again. The others.

He was supposed to get ready, grab the first thing he could and bludgeon the first alien that would be in the way before he would start running. He knew the way. He hadn’t forgotten it. The first time he had tried to escape, he had almost made it to the hangars.

The door he was supposed to watch for opened suddenly, and Milo looked up, startled.

He hoped it would be two familiar figures ready to haul him off the room, and back among the stars in a familiar cargo ship. Back at home.

But it wasn’t.

Instead, when he blinked the too bright light out of his eyes, it was them. The grey ones.

He did his best to curl back into the wall, even though he knew it would be useless. He hissed through his teeth as a too warm hand grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him away from the torn padding. It was only a small victory when they had given up replacing it.

Yet, he was pulled toward the middle of the room, feeling hands and hands over him, manhandling him in a position he tried so hard to struggle against. But, as usual, he still ended up with his arms forced along his body, being hugged from behind from a pair of arms that made him unable to move, and another pair pulling his head to the side, trying to keep one of his shoulders down.

He whimpered - a sound that was  _ foreign, wrong _ \- when he felt the all too familiar prickle in his neck.

The liquid was pushed from the seringue into his bloodstream, and he tried thrashing around. It had never worked so far. But the door was open. It was right there.

_ It was right there _ .

If he had stayed on the task. If he hadn’t panicked like an idiot. If he had been doing what he should have been doing since he got there. He would have been able to pass through the door, and escape. Or at least attempt to.

The too many hands from the grey ones patted his hair, his arms, going along the nape of his neck. He could recognize the sounds they were making as shushing. They were trying to relax him. Make him at ease. They were saying words that he couldn’t understand over how  _ wrong _ they felt near his ears. The way he could feel their breath brush on them, on the back of his neck as he was still being restrained.

One too big hand, passed from his hair to his face, as his head bobbed forward. What he could recognize as a thumb passed on his cheeks, brushing near his eyes. His cheeks felt wet with the motion.

The clouds were starting to barricade his thoughts again.

Slowly the strong hold over his body weakened, and he was laid down on the ground, into the opposite corner of the room, where they had arranged beddings he did his best not to use. He was still being patted.

He hated it.

But his body was almost unresponsive, except for slow, sluggish movements that wouldn’t get him anywhere.

They caressed his back and legs as they covered him with a blanket, shushing words he didn’t want to understand.

Then finally, the hands left his body.

Milo could only watch them go back through the door and close it behind them. Again.

A long… time… passed.

He didn’t know how long. 

Even though he could barely form a fist with his fingers, he stood up.

Too slow.

Went out of the beddings.

Crawled.

And he slumped back in the corner.

His corner.

It was cold.

He didn’t like the way it felt.

It didn’t feel reassuring.

It didn’t feel safe.

But it was the closest thing he had to control.

Everything else felt wrong.

He watched the door.

He didn’t know how long it had been.

* * *

The spoon pressed on his cheek as he slowly turned his head away from it.

He heard an exasperated sigh coming from the grey one at his left, and refused to hear their coaxing words.

The spoon arrived from another angle.

He didn’t look at it, keeping his eyes trained on the door in front of him, as he had done ever since the grey one had entered the room. As he did most of the time.

It was wide open.

He had been drugged again, some time ago. He couldn’t remember when. It was muddled. But it was slowly starting to ease off again. It felt as if he would have enough force to reach for it. How long had it been since he had tried another escape?

Surely, it must have been long enough, if they kept it open without a care, now…

He turned his head again, when the spoon got too close to his lips. Whatever was pureed on it smeared across his cheek, like it had for the past… moments. Ever since the grey one had started trying to feed him.

He was hungry, but he refused to eat.

Not when he didn’t know what they had put in it. Not when they could see him eating. Not when everything was bare.

He knew what he was eating when he was with his friends, even if he didn’t eat at the same time. But they had respected it. He had felt safe with them.

He had felt like he was living.

He had thought he was done surviving.

But his friends weren’t there, and he was back to surviving.

They hadn’t been, so far.

Still, he looked at the door. If he got out, he would be able to be free again. He could be with his friends again. He could see them again. He could make sure they were okay.

He turned his head with barely more energy, and the food dirtied his cheek.

His thoughts were starting to clear once again.. But the itch wasn’t as strong as it had been the last time. It was still there, and his arm still felt painful whenever he moved it. The blood was still dried on the bruise he had created. It helped manage the itch.

If he got out, he would see his friends again.

Milo pressed his palms on the ground, and used the wall with the torn paddings for support as he slowly stood up. He registered some movements to his left, but was transfixed on the door.

If he got out, he would see them again.

He would live again.

He took one step forward. His legs were shaky. The drug hadn’t entirely left his system. Everything felt too slow and too fast. It was like his body was forced to move through thick, murky water.

He took another step forward. The door was right there. Wide open. He could see some of the grey ones passing through the corridor, tending to their business, head in their documents as they vanished behind the wall.

He took a third step. His knees felt like they were going to give out at any moment. But if he went through the door... 

Fingers - too warm, too big, too much, too  _ wrong _ \- laced themselves around his wrist.

He heard the words telling him he should stay, eat and rest. But he didn’t listen to them.

He weakly tugged against the grip that didn’t bulge, trying to take another step, trying to reach for the door, trying to be  _ free _ . He had to go through the door. It was the only way he would be able to see his friends again. To make sure they were safe.

The grey one’s three other hands wrapped themselves around his body. One grabbing him at the hips, guiding him back down onto the ground with a gentle force he hadn’t enough strength to oppose. One pressing itself on his bare shoulder, where everything felt too much, rubbing their thumb in a gesture that should have been soothing, but that wasn’t.

The last one pressed itself on his head again, slowly scratching through his hair and going down to his nape before going back up and repeating the motion.

Milo didn’t stop struggling, even if it was useless. The door was right there.

It was wide open. He had to go through it.

If it closed… if it closed again…

Shushing noises hummed too close to his ears, and a shiver went down his spine. The grey one told him he had to eat. That he couldn’t see the stars anymore. That it was too dangerous for him.

One of the hands left his hips, and picked up the spoon again.

Milo turned his head. The food smeared on his face.

He wanted to go.

He heard an apology to his left. Before his mind could fully catch up with it, still too muddy, still too drugged, a - too big, too strong, too  _ wrong _ \- hand grabbed him by the jaw. The fingers dug into his dirtied cheeks until the pressure forced him to open his mouth, and the spoon scraped against his teeth, pushing its content down his throat.

* * *

The grey one stayed in the room longer, even when the plate was empty. Their hands were still keeping him seated against his corner, and they only used a little bit more strength to keep him where he was when he struggled a bit too much.

Without his consent, his body went lax, barely conscious, as the murky barrier circled his mind again.

He hadn’t been prickled this time.

But the uncomfortable weight on his stomach, and the ghost of hands on his face and throat let him know where the drug had been.

He should have known.

Too soon, lifting his hand toward the wide open door felt exhausting. So did trying to struggle away from the too big hands.

He didn’t stop looking at the door. It was still open.

The grey one let go of him, and Milo gradually slumped back against his corner. The uneven, torn padding was digging uncomfortably in his shoulder, but he didn’t have the strength to move. He felt too slow, too  _ wrong _ .

He brought his arms to his middle, covering his stomach.

It hurt.

The door was wide open. Out of reach.

He felt the grey one pass a wet handkerchief on his cheeks, washing away the mess he’d made when he refused to eat.

He could only blink at the door, unable to stop the hands that were on his face again.

He was weak.

He couldn’t even put up a fight against someone that didn’t actively try to hurt him.

Shame burnt at his eyes.

The grey one gathered the plate once they were done, and stood up.

They tried shushing him with words he didn’t want to listen to again. A hand patted his hair, and he could hear them cooing. The hands brushed away a lock that fell in front of his eyes, and finally, stopped touching him.

It felt wrong. Everything felt wrong when he wasn’t protected by his mask and bodysuit.

Everything had felt wrong ever since he had been put in there.

The door was wide open, but the grey one was near it. They told him something. He didn’t want to understand.

And the door closed.

* * *

He wanted them to come.

_ He hoped they would come. _

The door opened brutally. It wasn’t them.

Hands grabbed at his wrists, at his arms, at his head, he felt the prickle in his neck.

He went lax.

* * *

And it happened again.

* * *

And again.

* * *

_ And again. _

* * *

His mind cleared up for the first time since he couldn’t remember. The drug had left his system. His thoughts were his’. His body was his.

But it felt wrong, the itch on his arm was stronger than ever. The cold breeze that passed through the corner was too much and his body felt colder than ever. The lights, even dimmed to mimic a night cycle, were too bright for his bare eyes.

He could still remember the hands, and how they had felt wrong.

Everything was too bright, too loud, too warm, too cold, too fast, too slow. Everything was too much.

It was overwhelming.

He didn’t think he could ever get used to that.

He didn’t know how long it had been since he had been sold back to this place. Distantly, he was glad he didn’t know. It probably had been an eternity. He could hardly remember their faces.

The itch grew stronger, more suffocating.

But he didn’t move.

There was no point.

He remained in his slumped position against the corner,  _ his _ corner. The pathetic attempt at curling up while he was drugged.

He would have looked at the door. He would have made plans to escape.

But for the first time, Milo looked down at his bare knees, arms still hugging his middle. There was no point in watching the door.

Not anymore.

_ They wouldn’t come. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I hoped you enjoyed this chapter! It was pretty enjoyable to write, but in retrospect, I'm kinda feeling half bad for Milo tbh. It was a pretty hard chapter for him!
> 
> This chapter was a prompt fill again, and the chosen theme was courtesy of TNKT! This scene was one that had been sticking around for a while, so the prompt matched it down to a T! I'm kinda looking forward to writing how Milo ends up in that situation hehe.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr by clicking [here!](https://lokiitama.tumblr.com/)
> 
> This series is mostly part of the [ One Shot Prompts Challenge ](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/oneshot_prompts_challenge) (Ao3 collection you can see by clicking on this link!). It's a challenge created by [TNKT](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TNKT/pseuds/TNKT) and myself whose goal is to enjoy writing stories without having to overly think about multi-chaptered ones.
> 
> You can check out TNKT's own band of misfits (that inspired mine) by checking out [ The Disaster Five ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23377273/chapters/56014675#workskin)!
> 
> This event is open for anyone that would like to join, and can be used for fandom and personal stories!


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